Binding to Earth
by Sandy S
Summary: Sequel to "Confronting the Sun." Spike and Buffy attempt to make it back to the Earth they know. This is their journey! Part 12! :o)
1. Default Chapter

Title: Binding to Earth (1/?)  
  
Author: Sandy S.  
  
Email: ssoennin@juno.com  
  
URL: http://darkprophecies.net/eternaldevotion  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Joss and UPN.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Set after all recent stuff on the show (Season 7 included).  
  
Summary: This is the sequel to "Confronting the Sun." What happened to Buffy and Spike after the Watcher's Council had them dusted by the sun? Of course, they didn't go peacefully to heaven, but they didn't go to hell either. Read their continuing story to find out what their new trials. . .  
  
Binding to Earth  
  
". . .What is the force that binds the stars? I wore this mask to hide my scars What is the power that pulls the tide? Never could find a place to hide  
  
What moves the earth around the sun? What could I do but run and run and run? Afraid to love, afraid to fail A mast without a sail. . ."  
  
From "Ghost Story" by Sting, 1999  
  
  
  
Year 652 Meonik time  
  
"You have to believe that I'm Buffy Summers." My voice is hollow with the desperation that I'm feeling. How am I to convince the man before me that I am Buffy without my corporeal body encasing my soul? Thankfully, I'm able to touch physical objects because the only reason I'm staying focused is by gripping the arms of the cushioned chair in which I'm sitting and by ignoring the claustrophobic effect of being in such a small cabin. The power my listener wields is far greater than his dwelling indicates.  
  
Although his hair is black as night, his response is hoarse and tired as if he has heard too many tales. "And why should I believe you? You say you're in the chair across from me, but I can't even see you. How do I know that you're not with *them*?"  
  
"If you don't believe me, then, a lot of people are going to die very soon. Think about it, if I were with them, would I be here trying to elicit your aid?" I try to avoid thinking about how little time is left before lives are lost and before I might truly lose my lover forever. If the latter occurred, I would surely be destroyed.  
  
The man licks his lips in anticipation as he weighs my words. "What's in it for me and my people if we choose to help you. . . if you are who claim to be?"  
  
"The Meoniks will be gone, and you will be free to return home." I don't know if this incentive is powerful enough.  
  
"Many of my people were born and raised here. They know no other way of life. Why should they want to go somewhere else?" His face his youthful, but when he thoughtfully raises a finger to his lips, I notice that his hand is wrinkled from using the magic in this dimension.  
  
"They would be crazy to stay here. . . , but they could stay if they wanted," I amend when I witness his expression change to one of annoyance.  
  
"And how many will I lose if I agree to help?" He's carefully covering all the bases. . . not that I blame him. "How many will I lose to save your lover?"  
  
Anger flashes scarlet red through me; I am sick of human arrogance. "It's not just to save my companion but to save this world and Earth's dimension. Billions, no. . . trillions of lives, Sievene, not just one."  
  
Even though I know he can't truly see me, he appears to study me with a bemused expression. Then, he sighs. "Tell me a good story, invisible one, and perhaps I will consider helping you."  
  
My stomach lurches in a mixture of annoyance and resignation. "All right. But if I'm to tell this tale, you must be serious as well because I have no time for jokes."  
  
"Oh, I am very serious. Tell me."  
  
* * *  
  
TBC. . . What is Buffy talking about? Why is she invisible? Where's Spike? And what happened after they were dusted? Read on. . . :o) Hope you enjoy this, too! 


	2. Part 2

Year 3, Meonik Time  
  
In a streak of long blond hair, tan skin, and firm muscles, I tumble from my perch on the tree branch where I usually feel more comfortable sleeping. I hardly have a chance to shriek as sharp wood and dew-drenched green leaves scrape over my bare flesh and bright artificial sunlight temporarily blinds me. Not even close to being panicked, I twist my body and prepare for the impact with the ground. As soon as my feet touch the dirt, I loosen my knees and squat low before rising again.  
  
Ignoring my minor injuries and curling my toes in the damp earth, I cross my arms and close my eyes, and sure enough, I hear the faint tinkle of laughter, a sound that almost seamlessly blends with the breeze that overlays the sound of birds in the distance.  
  
"Theos!" I call softly. "You imp!"  
  
Theos is one of the disembodied beings who cares for me, and of the three, he is the practical joker. I never cease to be amazed by what he's going to pull on me next. When I'm in my designated rooms, I recognize him by his pine scent, but outside, I have difficulty detecting him.  
  
"What, Hannah?" he singsongs, his voice swirling about my head.  
  
Hannah is the name my caretakers gave me when they found me three years ago. They say I appeared in their dimension quite suddenly in the wake of a mystical banishment spell, and since I was prohibited from returning to my previous plane of existence, they adopted me. I have no memory of anything except the kindnesses of the three ethereal, invisible beings. They have created me a mini-habitat so that I might survive in their dimension. I have no idea what exists outside of here although sometimes I wonder. . . .  
  
"Hannah!" a second, higher-pitched voice shouts from afar.  
  
"Good morning to you, too, Thalia."  
  
Thalia is the practical one of the three. She's constantly organizing the other two, and we often joke together that the "boys" aren't sensible enough to find their way out of a cardboard box with a map.  
  
"Have you heard from Thayne this morning?" She sounds closer now and extremely irritated. When she's angry, she smells of cinnamon.  
  
"Nope." I shake my head.  
  
Thayne is a dreamer and occasionally wanders off somewhere in my habitat to ponder life. Many a time, I've searched him out for advice or quiet discussion. His voice is deep and rich and strangely soothes me when I'm upset. Thayne's disappearances annoy Thalia but make Theos laugh.  
  
"Well, he's in charge of food preparation for our picnic today, and he hasn't done a thing yet."  
  
"Why can't you get the food? You just push a button or two. Or I can do it." As far as I can tell, the beings don't eat food, but I require nourishment.  
  
"Well, Thayne told me last night that he had this new recipe he wanted to try out on you," Thalia growls.  
  
"Oh, really? I love when he does that." I begin heading through the small forest they built me toward my living quarters, picking my way deftly through the thick brush and trees. "I'm going to get dressed in something less. . . " I glare in the direction I last heard Theos, ". . . torn. Then, I'll look for Thayne with you."  
  
Thalia huffs. "All right."  
  
"See you in a bit, Hannah," Theos whispers in my ear. He always likes to be close to me.  
  
"No peeking, Theos," I warn the mischievous spirit.  
  
"Who, me?"  
  
"Yes, you."  
  
* * *  
  
Year 3, Meonik time, twenty minutes and a shower later  
  
  
  
  
  
The reflective surface hanging on the wall in my bedchamber reveals the entire extent of my body. I somehow know that I am short with a petite frame, freshly-washed waist-length blond hair, and eyes as green as the leaves on the trees. I've exchanged my light ivory sleeping jumper for a bright red, short-sleeved shirt with a scoop collar, long red pants with wide bottoms, and soft red moccasins.  
  
  
  
  
  
Sweeping my hair up on top of my head with a clip, I vaguely question who I was in the other dimension. What had I done to be banished? What was my name? What had my life been like? Did I have a family?  
  
Biting my bottom lip, I cock my head. Satisfied with my appearance, I push the questions to the back of my mind and leave my living quarters to search for Thayne in the beings' living space.  
  
Thalia arranged a small sitting room with brown, cushioned chairs and carpet, homemade board games, and a refreshment bar for my comfort just inside the entrance to their indoor area. Pictures of me in various poses and areas of the habitat line the plain white walls. Apparently, the beings care greatly for me, and a smile touches my lips at the thought. The habitat control room is located to the right, and a door to the beings' private quarters is to the left.  
  
"Thayne?"  
  
The control room is more brilliantly lit than the living room and starker in form. Several computer panels blink and hum underneath the large window that overlooks the forest. Thayne doesn't respond, and if he's really not present, I don't expect a practical joke as with Theos.  
  
"Okay, you're not here," I mutter as I re-enter the living room.  
  
Stopping short, my eyes widen. The entrance to the private quarters stands partially open. The door has never been ajar, and I have never asked for a tour. Surely, they won't mind if I take a peek in my hunt for Thayne.  
  
Touching the door tentatively as if I'm afraid to be caught. Heart pounding, I slide the door just far enough to squeeze into the next room.  
  
* * *  
  
Year 3, Meonik time, thirty seconds later  
  
The world on the other side of the door is nothing like anything I imagined. The ceiling is at least six stories high. Everything is a smooth, silver color, and only the configuration of light and shadows defines the boundaries of floor, ceiling, and walls. I barely see a slight distortion in light in the distance, indicative of another door.  
  
"Thayne? Are you here?" My words echo around the room, and suddenly I feel very alone.  
  
Drawn to the door on the opposite side, I half-run, half-walk toward it, senses on hyper-alert and heart racing. My need to know what's in the next room is so overwhelming that I forget to be nervous about being caught. After all, I haven't been invited into their private area, and they allow me the retreat of my quarters. However, the beings have told me so little of themselves, and after three years, my curiosity is uniquely piqued.  
  
Upon reaching my goal, I pause, running my fingers over the silver surface of the door. If the door had been shut, I wouldn't have noticed its existence. A small prayer that I must know from my childhood in the other dimension passes easily through my thoughts, and I take a deep breath before slipping through the gap.  
  
For some reason, I am not shocked by what I view in the more brightly lit, white room. The ceiling is lower than in the previous area, and in contrast, the new room is filled with hundreds of tables of various types of technology that are completely foreign to me.  
  
I pause in the doorway, listening carefully for rustles and distinguishing scents that indicate the presence of Thalia, Thayne, or Theos. After I'm certain that I'm alone, I venture further into the maze of equipment, being attentive to various liquids that seemed to be churning on their own and the blinking lights on several of the applications.  
  
Just when I'm prepared to turn around and retreat back to the familiar habitat, my eyes catch the presence of a tall object over the edge of another piece of equipment. Circling the platform, I try to glimpse the object more fully. I have to pick my way through two more rows of technology before the source of my intrigue is directly in front of me.  
  
The object is cylindrical and tall with the top not quite touching the ceiling. The tube is wider than the trunk of any tree I've ever seen, and I couldn't possibly put my arms completely around the diameter. The material from which the object is constructed is clear, and I can view bubbles in the semi-translucent blue liquid that fills the hollow inside of the structure.  
  
Touching the cylinder with fingers splayed, I find the liquid is emitting a warm energy like the pulsing beat of my heart. I press my other hand to the surface as well and peer to the core of the cylinder. My chest constricts at what I view.  
  
A shape. . . a shape that looks like me. . . only larger. . . is suspended at the center of the fluid.  
  
Terrified, I draw a sharp breath as strange thoughts dart through my mind, sending me to my knees.  
  
*** "No matter where we end up, we'll be together, love."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"I'm absolutely sure." ***  
  
Shaking with every fiber of my being, I manage to somehow pull myself to a swaying upright position. As if I'm not controlling my own actions, I numbly turn to the platform behind me and pick up the largest piece of equipment I can carry. Sparks fly around me as I rip the piece from its station.  
  
With all my strength, I heave the amputated object at the cylinder, smashing the material as if it is as fragile as papier-mâché. Strange smelling, thick liquid deluges my nose and mouth, causing me to choke violently. The body from the center of the cylinder slams into me so that I land hard on my back.  
  
As the liquid spreads evenly over the floor, I push myself up, rolling the body over. Wiping thick goop out of my eyes, I blink furiously. As my vision clears, I spit the slimy liquid out of my mouth and cough hard and long.  
  
When I am sufficiently recovered, I scan over the naked body before me. My fingers automatically trail over the warm flesh, not embarrassed by the nudity. When I reach his left arm, I slow, pushing my fingers into the smooth scar tissue.  
  
Thoughts. . . memories. . . infiltrate my mind again, but this time, I'm better prepared and therefore not as overcome.  
  
*** The first injury I note is in his left forearm. The bone is broken clean through the skin. . . a compound fracture that's bleeding profusely, sending the sharp smell of copper to my nose and soaking the torn fibers of his clothing.  
  
I rip the cloth up to his shoulder, pulling the strips away and flinging them to the side. Numbly, I push the bone back into the original nest of muscles and tendons. ***  
  
Breathing heavily, I force myself to continue up his arm to his face. Gracefully-carved cheekbones are the strongest feature on his face, but his eyes aren't open, so I don't know how intense they are. Light-colored curls fall over his forehead, and I sweep them away.  
  
Then, I realize that he's not breathing. I place my hand over his heart.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Then, horrible retching coughs possess his entire body, and liquid spews out of his mouth and nose, re-drenching me. His eyes blink rapidly, and I gently but quickly wipe the fluid off his face.  
  
His eyes open without warning, and I find myself staring into the bluest depths I've ever known.  
  
*** "I love you, Buffy. ***  
  
"Spike?"  
  
* * * TBC. . . Who are Theos, Thayne, and Thalia? What are Buffy and Spike doing here? What will they do now? Stay tuned!  
  
Thanks bunches to all the lovely reviewers! I'm so glad you're reading this one, too! I promise I'll do my best to make it even more exciting or just as exciting as the last read!  
  
Author's Note: I forgot to put this on the first piece, but like "Confronting the Sun," this story is loosely based on a partially (again about one chapter) written novel that I planned in high school but never completed! 


	3. Part 3

Year 3, Meonik time, a few seconds later  
  
"W-who are you?" His words are heavily accented but not foreign. "Who am I?"  
  
I tear my gaze from him as the block on my memories cracks and crumbles. People, places, events flash through my mind like a movie in an extremely realistic manner and rapid speed. Dizzily, I reach out with one of my hands to steady myself and touch bare skin.  
  
I'm Buffy Summers. . . ex-vampire slayer. . . ex-vampire. . . with a beating heart and lungs full of necessary oxygen.  
  
The man. . . vampire. . . Spike jerks away from my contact. "What's wrong with you?"  
  
Covered in goop, I look down at myself, noting the golden-brown, taut skin that's free from signs of age. "Damn. I look pretty good for being over a thousand." My comment sounds a little strange even to myself.  
  
Spike has backed up to the base of the cylinder I released him from, slipping and sliding slightly in the slimy fluid. As if he's a trapped animal, he refuses to remove his eyes from me.  
  
"Where am I?" Spike seems utterly confused, and I'm not sure if he's talking to me or himself. "I mean, I don't know where I'm supposed to be, but I know it's not here. Not covered in this whatever it is." He flings the slimy substance off his left hand.  
  
"Umm. No, you're not supposed to be here. Neither am I. And neither of us is supposed to be breathing either. And by the way, I'm Buffy; you're Spike."  
  
He frowns. "Well, how do we get back to where we're supposed to be? And what do you mean we're not supposed to be breathing? And what kind of bloody stupid names are those?"  
  
His responses remind me of the spell gone wrong Willow cast on us to erase our memories and the one she cast to make us fall in love. Trying not to grin, I attempt to formulate a response, but before I can think of anything that won't be too upsetting, I smell the scent of fresh rain. "Thayne?"  
  
Thayne seems disappointed. "So, he doesn't remember you?"  
  
Only the memory of Thayne's kindness keeps me from lashing out at him. "What's going on? You, Theos, and Thalia have a lot of explaining to do."  
  
"I agree," Spike asserts.  
  
Thayne sighs, "I suppose we do."  
  
* * *  
  
Year 3, Meonik time, thirty minutes later  
  
Spike and I are perched awkwardly on the edge of my bed. . . the bed on which I so rarely slept. At least, now I know why. I am using every ounce of my strength not to throw myself into his arms. What keeps me from doing so is a pervasive need to know the truth and a keen awareness that Spike is not the individual I remember him to be.  
  
The three invisible beings are present as well, their signature scents mingling in the fashion that I've come to recognize as uniquely theirs. . . sharp pine, cool rain, melted sugar. More than ever before, I wish I could see them. . . wish they possessed solid forms.  
  
Thalia leads the group, "I'm not sure quite where to start except to say that we knew this day would come. In fact, we wanted it to. But we thought we'd start by letting you ask us questions."  
  
I glance at Spike who appears to be a bit dumbfounded, so I begin by being slightly more revealing than I would normally be simply because I still have some trust in them, "Why am I here? Last thing I knew before my life started here, I was. . . on a spaceship headed for the sun." I can't bear to discuss why just yet. That topic should be reserved for later when Spike is more. . . together.  
  
Thayne explains, "It's quite complicated, but to explain the process in terms that you would understand, when you were turned to dust by the sun. . ."  
  
"I. . . we were cremated?" Spike wonders almost innocently.  
  
"Boy, you really don't remember anything, do you?" Theos marvels, brushing quietly over my cheek.  
  
Theos must have touched Spike as well because a look of pure annoyance crosses his face. "No, I don't."  
  
"You and Buffy were vampires," Thayne informs Spike with a matter-of- factness that I couldn't have fathomed using. So much for my idea of telling Spike that tidbit later.  
  
"Vampires?" Spike is incredulous. "As in the bloodsucking kind? Not just parasites off the rest of humankind?"  
  
I answer Spike's questioning gaze with a nod. "Yes, but we were good vampires. In fact, we. . . worked side by side for centuries. . . on Earth." I pause, returning my attention to the other three creatures in the room. "Where are we? What is this place?"  
  
"This is a place similar to Earth but not Earth. We're in a different dimension. The exact place where you are now is Niodell," Thalia says in a low tone.  
  
"Why are you invisible?" Questions are pouring forth, and I'm determined that I will not hold anything back.  
  
"Because that is the nature of our kind."  
  
"How did you get us here? What did you do to us? How do we have form? And how come we're not vampires anymore?"  
  
Theos laughs almost merrily. "One of our jobs is to track the flow of souls in other dimensions and across dimensions with an eye on your dimension in particular. When your sun incinerated your bodies, your souls were set adrift. Being near the sun, there was enough energy for us to bend the dimensions and bring your souls here."  
  
"Well, we'd always been taught to merely observe the flow of souls in your dimension. We'd never interacted with any of the souls. And certainly no soul had ever drifted that close to the sun," Thalia adds.  
  
"Not even in other solar systems?"  
  
Thalia sounds amused, "Oh, Buffy dear, you overestimate our job description and our ability. We are merely one group of many like us. Our job is your solar system. I'm sure in other systems this type of phenomenon has occurred before, but we've never heard of it."  
  
"Are we clones?"  
  
Thayne clears his throat, "Not exactly. To make a clone like you're thinking about, we'd have to have a tissue sample. . . even a single cell from your physical body. We had none of that. We just had your soul. So, we devised a way to read and store your soul's essence and created you a physical body to match that essence. Of course, we couldn't create 'dead' tissue similar to your vampire state, so we created a whole new living body that conformed as close as possible to your human state. So no, you're not clones. If you were clones, you wouldn't have the memories of your other lives."  
  
"I don't have any memories," Spike spoke for the first time since the meeting began.  
  
"And neither did I. . . not for a long time."  
  
For the first time, something besides anger, annoyance, and confusion crosses Spike's face. My heart warms to his show of positive emotion. Surely, he will remember what was. . .is between us at some point.  
  
Theos admits, "A glitch we weren't expecting. But our theory is that your souls need time to readjust to the new bodies, so one coping strategy was to block out the old memories for a while."  
  
My eyes narrow. "But why didn't you tell me about what was going on from the beginning?"  
  
"Because we weren't sure exactly what we were dealing with. How you would handle the truth."  
  
"Why was Spike in stasis?"  
  
"Because we formed you first. Spike's body wasn't ready when yours was because we didn't have enough resources to form both of you at once."  
  
"Oh." I think for a long moment. "Why us?"  
  
Thalia chooses to answer, "We've been studying your people's souls for a long time. We wanted to understand your kind. What better souls than those, which have been rejected by society? What more unique and rare souls than those of two vampires?"  
  
Anger flares through me. That feeling is definitely familiar. "So, we were just experiments? Toys to you?"  
  
Slightly defensive, Theos jumps on my questions, "No! Of course not! Although we had selfish motives for studying you, we also wanted to give you a second chance at life. . . literally."  
  
"What if we didn't want it?" I demand.  
  
Thayne breaks the resulting silence first, "We didn't expect that. I guess we assumed that life would persevere. . . wants to continue no matter what."  
  
"You don't have suicide here, do you?"  
  
"No." Thayne's reply is almost imperceptible.  
  
"Well, what do you plan to do with us now? Are you done studying us. . . me?"  
  
Thalia acknowledges with the essence of sugar, "You are free to go; we have no hold on you. We have no desire to hurt you. Just because we studied you doesn't mean we don't care about you."  
  
"Where the hell do you expect us to go?"  
  
"We'll send you back to Earth."  
  
"To do what? Get killed again?" For all their technological brilliance, they are lacking in common sense. . . or most probably knowledge of human beings.  
  
"You'll have a chance to live again."  
  
"Yeah, right, we won't even know what to expect. How many years will have passed? We'll be all alone." The unreachable Spike is already making me feel unbearably isolated.  
  
* * *  
  
Year 3, Meonik time, several hours later  
  
The sheets are cool and fresh against the bare skin on my calves and thighs. The mattress is soft and comfortable beneath my spine, but no position is comfortable. I can't sleep, not here, not without. . .  
  
Spike sleeps on a pallet across the room. His snores are soft and even, and I cherish them because vampire Spike was always silent during sleep. Currently, he is exhausted after the multiple revelations that have been thrown at him. I am tempted to get up, cross the room, and pounce on him. . . the way I used to do when I couldn't sleep. He has been so quiet; I don't know what he's thinking. I have a feeling that if I do attempt to touch him, he will push me away.  
  
Before I think about what I'm doing, my bare feet have found the carpet, and I'm kneeling at Spike's side. Light streams through the window, illuminating his body. He lays on his right side, his scarred left arm on top of the blanket I gave him earlier.  
  
Upon close inspection, his mouth is set in a frown, and his eyes are tightly shut, highlighting a level of anxiety that his deep breathing doesn't betray. His lips are slightly parted, and I long to kiss them tenderly.  
  
Then, he moves with a slight groan, and my skin tingles when his hand brushes over my fingers. His fingers close around mine and gently squeeze. My eyes fly from his hand to his face, and he remains passive in his dreams.  
  
I attempt to remove my hand, but he only holds more tightly with an unconscious but stubborn urgency. Finally managing to clamor to an upright position, I stand with his hand encasing mine. Guessing he will let go if I start walking away, I only succeed in pulling him up with me. Not used to him being stronger than me, I stride away from him and only succeed in pulling him with me. We reach the bed, and I think surely he will let go of me once I slip beneath the sheets.  
  
With a contented sigh, he snuggles next to me. To no avail, I try to keep distance between us, but Spike pulls my body flush against him torso, wrapping his left arm snugly around my waist. Instantly, drowsiness overwhelms me, and I decide to deal with the consequences in the morning.  
  
TBC. . . Buffy and Spike prepare to head for Earth. What will become of their relationship? How will they cope on Earth again?  
  
Sorry this part took so long, but I'm in grad school and had to take my qualifying exams. More will be coming soon cause I passed! *g*  
  
Thanks for all the wonderful reviews!!! They mean a lot! 


	4. Part 4

Year 3, Meonik time, seven hours later  
  
A husky voice scratches at the edge of my unconscious mind, laving warm air over my earlobe with each syllable, "I don't remember you being so warm."  
  
Familiar arms pull me closer to a body that's generating heat. A stubbly chin scrapes over my bare shoulder, nuzzling into my neck. I sigh contentedly, trailing fingertips down thick forearms and pressing my hips to his so that sparks of desire sizzle across the nerves in my skin.  
  
The black depths of sleep almost overcome me again when suddenly I'm shoved to the opposite side of the bed. My eyelids swing open in alarm even before harsh words are issued.  
  
"Bloody hell! What am I doing here? What kind of stunt are you trying to pull, woman?" Spike shouts in the thick British accent I recall him losing hundreds of years ago. Apparently, his soul sort of forgot that little fact.  
  
After musing about his accent, I feel the familiar rage, which only Spike can elicit, sweep through me. I whirl to face him, managing to twist the sheets around my legs. "Just who do you think you are, mister? You happen to have come to me in bed!"  
  
Reminiscent of a time long past, Spike snorts acidly. "I highly doubt that."  
  
"Well, you'll have to re-think that one because *you did*!" I cross my arms and glare at his scowling face. I don't like feeling this way about him. I don't like that he can't remember a day of our thousand years together.  
  
"I bet I didn't do it without you influencing me. . . taking advantage of my weakened state." He sounds as stubborn as a little boy who wants to play outside all night and not come inside to take a bath.  
  
"Oh, ho!" I laugh loudly, not bothering to hide my sarcasm. "*I* took advantage of *you*? That's a laugh. Mr. Snores-A-Lot who grabbed my hand in his sleep and wouldn't let go even when I tried to get in bed."  
  
"And *what* were you doing so close to me that I could actually touch you in my sleep?" Spike demands before my nickname dawns on him. He adds, "And I do *not* snore!"  
  
"Do so! And if you must know, I was covering you up with a blanket because you were shivering," I lie. I'm not about to tell him that I was drawn to him. . . that I merely wanted to look at him while he slept.  
  
"Like I believe that one."  
  
"You certainly don't believe much," I observe, pulling my hair back in a loose bun to get the locks off my face until I have time to shower and brush them.  
  
He studies my movements with intense interest before shaking his head slightly as if pushing away a memory. His tone abruptly softens with his next words, "I don't know much about who I am. I'm in a strange place with strange people. I get told almost unfathomable tales about who and what I am or was, and you say that I don't seem to believe much?" He turns his back to me then, settling heavily on the edge of the mattress and putting his head in his hands.  
  
Shocked, I remain motionless for a moment just watching him. He's not crying or moving. . . just sitting with an awful silence encasing him like a butterfly trapped in a cocoon.  
  
Releasing myself from the sheets, I crawl on hands and knees to his still form. Being cautious, I start to wrap my legs around him so that my thighs are parallel to his and my arms slip around his waist. He immediately stiffens at my touch but soon relaxes against me. I lay my cheek in the concave spot between his shoulder blades and listen to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.  
  
After several moments, he reaches down, unknots my hands, and cups them in his palms. "I-I don't remember this. . . I don't remember *us.* I mean, we obviously have feelings for one another; I just don't know how deep they run."  
  
He sounds so broken that I attempt to soothe him with my tone, choosing to ignore what he'd said on the edge of dreams. I don't want to tell him something he needs to discover himself. "You don't have to remember just yet. It's okay; you have plenty of time to adjust. Once you do, the memories will come flowing back."  
  
He twists to view my face. "How did you do it?"  
  
Letting the truth shine through my eyes, I murmur, "I don't know. They were just sort of impressions at first. . . , but later, I. . . when I found. . ."  
  
My thoughts transport back to yesterday and my discovery. Fresh anger flares. Spike feels the change in my body and pulls away as I struggle to stand.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asks, his eyes wide.  
  
I storm around the room, not caring what Spike thought. He is going to have to get used to who I am at some point. Why not start now? I snatch up a pair of my moccasins and clean clothes, stomping into the bathroom. I'm not quite ready to let him see me naked, especially if he doesn't remember anything. Dragging a brush through my hair after I dress, I stomp back into the bedroom.  
  
"What's wrong?" Spike repeats.  
  
"Those three have more explaining to do," I inform him as I hurry out the door.  
  
* * *  
  
Year 3, Meonik time, the next evening  
  
Spike and I walk side-by-side through the small forest to the large silver warehouse-type room where Thayne, Theos, and Thalia wait to prepare us for our journey back to Earth. Leaves and sticks crunch beneath our feet, and what I now know to be artificial moonlight streaks and dances between the giant green-cloaked arms above. The heady scent of life engulfs us. No place on Earth smells so exotic. . . not anymore.  
  
My stomach churns with apprehension about the future and about leaving my sole supports in recent life. Spike must retain some part of his past identity because he wears what seems to be an impenetrable poker face, something he mastered after decades of practice. I almost feel sorry for him because of the two of us, he has almost nothing on which to base his trust in these beings.  
  
Spike reads my mind. "Don't worry, Buffy. We'll make it through."  
  
I should be comforting him! Instinctually, I clasp his hand briefly. He squeezes back and returns his hand to his pocket a little awkwardly. "I needed to hear that. Thanks."  
  
"You're welcome. Are you still upset about earlier?" he wonders softly.  
  
"Not really." When I confronted the invisible three, they gently explained that they recognized that I wasn't gaining my memories back fast enough, so they "allowed" me to discover and free Spike. Somehow I believe them. Maybe I just want to trust.  
  
I shift the pack on my shoulder. In the leather bag, I stowed pictures of me. . . tan and smiling in my favorite environment. . . among the trees. I also have three different simple outfits and a page of pressed leaves and flowers for sentimental reminders. In contrast, Spike's arms are empty. . . like the blank slate of his mind.  
  
"Buffy," Spike interrupts my reverie.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"I want to apologize for earlier. . . for snapping at you so harshly."  
  
"It's all right."  
  
Spike stops, and I continue moving past him without a backward glance. "No, it's not all rght," he insists from behind me. "It wasn't right of me. . . no matter how confused I am."  
  
I pause and face him. Lit by a stray slice of moonlight, his blue eyes are awash with earnest, bold emotion. . . the way they've been since I've known him. I don't see the love. . . not yet. Moved by spontaneity, I throw my arms around him the way I've been longing to do since my memories fully returned. To my surprise, he hugs me tightly in return.  
  
I stand on my tiptoes in my moccasins, and whisper in his ear, "Forgiven."  
  
We are quiet the rest of the way to Thayne, Theos, and Thalia's living area.  
  
Theos greets us warmly at the entrance to their quarters, "Hi. We've got some amazing parting gifts for you if you'll kindly step inside."  
  
I giggle in spite of myself and inhale Theos's signature pine scent for what I realize might be the final time. "I wish I could hug you, Theos."  
  
"It's the thought that counts, Buffy. Sometimes I wish I could hug you, too."  
  
"But for different reasons entirely, right?" I tease my favorite of the three beings.  
  
His voice is earnest, "No, not for the reasons you're thinking."  
  
"Oh." Trying to lighten his mood, I blow a fake kiss to him. "Will a kiss do instead?"  
  
His playful laugh trills through the air of the tiny living space. "Yep, I suppose it will have to."  
  
Thalia and Thayne present Spike and me with gifts as soon as we find our way into the hangar-size room. Wrist-computers are slipped onto our wrists. Thalia presents us each with a tiny mechanical device, and Theos slips a ring made of an unknown metal onto our left ring fingers.  
  
Surprised and touched, I gasp in awe, "What are these things?"  
  
Airborne sugar breezes past my nose. Thalia's matter-of-fact voice explains, "The wrist computers are from Thayne; he took what he could decipher from your soul memories and fashioned the new computers, upgrading what would be expected given technological trends on Earth. Special feature: they're made of a material that will be virtually indestructible in your dimension."  
  
I examine the pale grey machine on my wrist. The metal is more lightweight than I recall my previous computer being. "Wow. Thanks."  
  
Spike nods but appears uncertain. "Thanks."  
  
I offer him a smile. "Don't worry. I'll show you how to work it later. I bet it'll come right back."  
  
"I hope so."  
  
Thayne coughs for our attention. "The object Thalia gave you. . . that's a copy of your soul's essence. The only one we have left. We didn't want you to worry that we or someone else might make use of your soul. Keep it; destroy it. Whatever you want to do."  
  
"We'll keep them very safe," I assure the three.  
  
"And the ring?" Spike queries, holding his hand up and pressing his thumb onto the metal.  
  
Theos responds first, "A little gift I made for you both. It has three uses."  
  
"Three?" I am extremely curious.  
  
"Yes. One is a barrier that you can activate whenever you want to appear invisible to other beings similar to your kind. The key to activating it is to practice a lot. . . using your mind."  
  
"Practice?" Spike wrinkles his nose in disgust, and I have to hold back a grin. He's always hated practicing with technology. . . he just doesn't remember yet.  
  
"Does it fool humans and demons?" I inquire thoughtfully.  
  
"We think so," Theos acknowledges. "The second use is to transport back here. . . to our dimension. Once and only once."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"In case you or Spike ever get in trouble you can't find a way out of. We want to be able to help you."  
  
"How do we use that function?"  
  
Thalia cuts Theos off before he can say anything, "There's a code programmed into your computer. You have to say a short phrase aloud together. Use it carefully. If anyone else is touching you when you recite the words, they will come here as well."  
  
Spike raises his eyebrows at me, uncertain how to react to a gift that means less to him than me. Tears fill my eyes because the endowment has extra significance for me.  
  
"And what of the third function?" Spike speaks because I am stunned about what they've given us so far.  
  
"The third is more symbolic than anything else," Thayne declares. "We read in your souls of a deep love for one another. Through your souls we also know that a ring is a symbol of eternity. We wanted you to share that bond. The rings are special, made of a precious metal found only in this dimension."  
  
Spike and I lock eyes, and I attempt to search his for the love that I've always seen emblazoned in the blue depths. For an instant, I discover a crack in the barrier and uncover his deepest feelings, savoring the truth. He. . . the Spike of my memories and dreams. . . remains. Any doubts I had before melt away.  
  
"I take it that the meaning resonates," Thayne notes in a low tone.  
  
Spike and I have no words.  
  
Thalia breaks the solemnity of the gift announcement, "It's time to go now. We'll be sending you five years into the future. . . five years after you were exposed to the sun. Enough time has passed for the mystical energy to rebuild enough for us to send you back. You'll be in the same city where you lived."  
  
"But we haven't had a chance to say our goodbyes," I protest.  
  
Theos is bright with false levity, "Goodbyes are so hard. We just want to part without them."  
  
I accept their terms and force back fresh tears. "Okay."  
  
With efficiency, Thayne begins the steps to open the portal between dimensions. Without fanfare, a small tear in the fabric between dimensions forms. A doorway is open to a new life. Am I prepared to take the next step? Glancing at Spike, I hold out my hand. He hesitates but promptly laces his fingers with mine.  
  
The portal closes behind us as our feet plant firmly on Earth's soil.  
  
TBC. . . Earth, 3007! What will Buffy and Spike find on Earth? Will Spike regain his memories?  
  
Thanks for all the lovely reviews. . . they help me keep writing! ;o) You guys are amazing!!!  
  
Sandy Eternal Devotion: http://darkprophecies.net/eternaldevotion 


	5. Part 5

3007, the next evening  
  
"Where are we going again?"  
  
"To see an old friend of ours. . . mine," I remind Spike.  
  
We've been walking outside the entire day because we don't have the proper identity markers to allow us to take public transportation. Although the cities vast buildings blocked a view of the sunset and much of the light, I am more comfortable under cloak of darkness. Nighttime in the city smells and sounds different than nighttime in my own little forest habitat, and I find myself missing the heady smell and the quiet rustle of the trees. Now hover vehicles race past overhead, and transport booths are used. Fewer people journey on foot anywhere, making traveling the streets more dangerous.  
  
"How much further is it?" he wonders, casting me a glance.  
  
I can tell his feet are beginning to ache like mine because of they way he's trudging along beside me. Even after three years being human again, one thousand years of being a vampire makes the transition to being more easily fatigued is not smooth. Of course, Spike doesn't remember this.  
  
"Isn't any of this beginning to look familiar?" My tone is hopeful.  
  
He frowns slightly. "Not really."  
  
Abruptly, I stop in front of what looks like a large metal door that has to open manually. "We're here. Now remember that we've known this woman for a while. She's helped us in a pinch before."  
  
My arm brushes Spike's as I lean across him to signal our arrival by touching the computer pad to the left of the door. He doesn't flinch away, and I'm grateful.  
  
He eyes the entrance nervously. "Where are we again?"  
  
I open my mouth to remind him what we're doing when I'm interrupted by the ancient sound of a creaking hinge. From behind a curtain of long, reddish-brown hair, a young-appearing woman peers at us uncertainly in the dark. She's actually well into her sixties, but she's considered young because most people live around two hundred years.  
  
"Yes? What do you need?"  
  
"Aimée, it's us, Buffy and Spike," I attempt to sound casual.  
  
Recognition washes over Aimée's face, and a fair hand goes to her mouth. "Oh my g. . ., I thought you were dead for five years now! The Watcher's Council. . ."  
  
I fill in the blanks, "Sent us into the sun, yes, but now something's happened, and we're back."  
  
"And you're not vampires," she observes.  
  
"No, but we need your help."  
  
"Need me to fix you up, huh?" She stares at Spike. "What's up with you? You practicing up for the role of the strong, silent type?"  
  
"No, I, um. . .," Spike trails off and looks at me for assistance.  
  
"Another part of the story," I explain, reaching for Spike's hand. His large hand engulfs mine, and I squeeze his fingers in reassurance. "Spike doesn't remember who he is. Can we come in?"  
  
She backs up as if she suddenly realizes that we're standing in the night. "Come in, please."  
  
We follow Aimée into the cozy depths of her large home. The outward antiquity of the building is unrepresentative of the warmth and technologically equipped arrangement of the inside. Soon, we're sipping warm tea, and she's giving us the once over.  
  
She surveys me first, so Spike settles into a cushioned chair in her workroom. "Hair needs a more functional cut. Way too long and not the latest trend. Clothes need changing, too." She fingers the computer on my wrist. "What manner of computer is this? I've never seen anything like it."  
  
"And you won't. I received it as a gift where I was before."  
  
Aimée knows better than to ask too many questions. "What about the wardrobe programmed in? What does it have?"  
  
I activate the computer, finding the clothing area. "Not much of anything, I'm afraid. I was hoping you could give Spike and I a leg up on the latest trends."  
  
"Sure, I'll see what I have." Across the room, she rummages through a file drawer full of clothing wardrobes. She produces two tiny processors. "One for you. One for Spike."  
  
In minutes, Spike and I are clean and freshly clothed. I'm wearing a dark green filmy top that's off my shoulders with matching long pants and synthetic boots. Aimée has cut my hair until locks only reach my shoulder blades. A jeweled green barrette holds the hair out of my face. Spike is dressed more simply in navy and grey, and his unruly curls have been cut and tamed with Aimée's equipment.  
  
His eyes shine at me. "You look beautiful."  
  
Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I blush for the first time in a millennium. "Thanks. You don't look so bad yourself."  
  
"Now for your identities." Aimée goes to her work desk and begins preparing identification packages to allow us to travel more easily. "Are you married?"  
  
"What do you mean?" I am a bit befuddled. "Married?"  
  
"The rings, pet; she's talking about the rings." Spike takes my left ring finger between his thumb and forefinger.  
  
"Oh!" My stomach jolts with the realization that Spike is touching me and using a pet name with me.  
  
Aimée is focusing on the machinery before her. "I'm putting that in. You're definitely married. And your names will be Scott and Devi Norton. I've got a couple of nondescript histories here as well. You won't be stopped or questioned."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"You're very welcome, Buffy. You ready for the brain inserts?"  
  
I nod, and Spike pales at Aimée's words. "B-brain inserts?"  
  
"You've had them before, Spike. Trust me, they're quick and painless," I enlighten him.  
  
By the time Aimée is satisfied with her work, a few hours have passed. She leads us to the door, and I reach over to hug her tightly.  
  
"Thanks for everything, sweetie."  
  
She returns the embrace and pulls away with last minute instructions. "Now, there's a transport station a couple of blocks east of here, and I've arranged for you a room to sleep at the public hotel. You each have job interviews in the morning, and a couple of living areas to go visit. Details are in your wrist computers. Are you sure you don't want to stay with me for the night?"  
  
"Yes, I'm sure."  
  
Placing her hand over the door handle, she gives me a pointed look. "Now, we're having coffee and catching up on things once you get settled in, right?"  
  
I nod. "It's a promise."  
  
Aimée swings open the door with a loud squeal. The night is dark, but I can barely make out a familiar pale face in the shadows.  
  
"Hello, my Spike."  
  
My heart skips a beat when the familiar voice reaches my ears. . . Drusilla.  
  
TBC. . . Thanks for all the wonderful reviews!!! Helps me keep writing the story! Glad you're enjoying the sequel!  
  
What the heck is Drusilla doing here? Didn't Vanessa, the rogue slayer, kill her in "Confronting the Sun?" Stay tuned. . . . :o) Sandy 


	6. Part 6

3007, a heartbeat later  
  
"Do I know you?" Spike face betrays the innocence of his question as my thoughts whirl with the possibilities of demons on the Earth once more.  
  
"You don't remember me? My poor Spike. You surely remember the love we shared. The stars still sing of it. Our song is never ending," Drusilla replies, slipping pale and wraithlike from the shadows into the light filtering onto the street from Aimée's home. Spike flinches only slightly when she places an open palm on his chest.  
  
"No, I don't." Spike is being matter-of-fact, but Drusilla must hear and feel his heart pounding against his ribs.  
  
"They sang me here. . . now." Drusilla is being strangely calm. "Why would they do that unless you were meant to be mine again?. . . Meant to be with me once again?"  
  
I clear my throat. "Umm. In case you haven't noticed, Spike doesn't remember you."  
  
She turns flashing eyes on me for an instant before returning to Spike. "Perhaps the stars have sent me here to help you remember, my Spike."  
  
"Remember what?" Spike removes her hand from his chest, and she allows the motion.  
  
"You may be human now, but you need to remember who you really are, love." Almost methodically, she transforms before him into full vampire face, fangs and golden eyes glinting. Spike's eyes widen, but I think I catch a glimpse of recognition deep inside.  
  
With a roar, Drusilla lunges at me, slicing at me with razor sharp fingernails. Barely registered pain shoots daggers across my cheek as Drusilla's palm connects with my flesh. Without slayer or vampire strength, I tumble to the floor like a sack of potatoes, and Aimée screams my name. Blinking hard to combat the unexpected stars in my eyes, I refocus to view three perplexed creatures. Spike has a restraining hand on Drusilla's forearm. . . not that he could stop her.  
  
"Buffy? Where did you go?" Aimée calls. Her eyes seem to pass right over me as she scans the shadows.  
  
Stunned, I reach my fingers up to my cheek, drawing back blood- saturated fingers. Somehow, I find my voice, "I-I'm here."  
  
"Where?" Spike calls, worry etching his features.  
  
Bracing myself on the wall behind me, I struggle to bring myself to a standing position. "Here. I'm right here."  
  
Their faces are painted with confusion. Only Drusilla is unconcerned.  
  
Drusilla twines long fingers through Spike's and makes little clicking noises with her lips. She licks the forefinger and thumb of her free hand and raises them to the air as if she can find me with some sort of psychic power. Spike jerks his hand away as if concentrating on locating me. As Aimée inches toward the doorway, I start moving behind the vampiress in hopes of getting close enough to Spike to pull him away before she realizes what is happening.  
  
"She is here. . . . She just disappeared. Where did she go? Where did she go?" Drusilla weaves her head from side to side, sing-songing, "Nobody knows. Nobody knows." She suddenly forces Spike's face an inch from her own. "Alas, the poor girl is gone. And that means, you're to go. . . with me." With her final words, her expression becomes unexpectedly cogent.  
  
The truth breaks across Spike's face just as I make the same realization. "Buffy's invisible. . . . The ring!" He stares down at the band on his finger.  
  
Like a raccoon that is attracted to shiny objects, Drusilla focuses intently on Spike's ring. "Pretty circlet." She daintily touches the metal and yanks her hand back as if burned, never removing her eyes from the object of psychic pain. "A powerful circlet. But what are the attributes of that power? We will find out. My Spike and I. And we shall harness its power for our own."  
  
Once I'm certain that Aimée is safely within the walls of her home, I make my move and sweep my legs against Drusilla's, causing the vampiress to stagger back and brace herself against the wall behind her.  
  
Swiftly, I land several hard kicks to her face and mid-section, severely overestimating my human strength in hopes of knocking her unconscious. Because of my mistake, Drusilla fluidly grabs my foot by the ankle, flinging me away from her. I flip backwards and land neatly upright.  
  
While Drusilla is distracted by invisible me, Spike readies himself to lunge at her, palming a makeshift stake that Aimée must have passed him. As soon as he hears my feet hitting the pavement, he rushes her. For a brief moment, I'm jealous as I watch Spike spar, almost dance, with his ex- lover. Instinctually, they know each others' fighting styles, but Spike quickly tires because of the immense human effort required to maintain the equilibrium of a fight with someone with preternatural strength.  
  
The battle ends abruptly with Drusilla pinning her former lover against the wall with the misappropriated stake to his heart. . . a stake that will kill a human just as easily as a vampire. Spike's chest is heaving against her arm as they stare each other down.  
  
"The moon is irate and says you must come with me now," she whispers, her lips hovering close to his. Without moving her head, she lifts a hand and snaps her fingers sharply. . . once, twice.  
  
Seven vampire minions seemingly detach themselves from the darkness. Two approach Drusilla and roughly take hold of Spike. Drusilla hands another minion the wood. "Dispose of that for me and ready the portable transport."  
  
The vampire nods, and Drusilla turns back to Spike. "Come, Spike. We will be on our way. We have to follow the moon home. She's inviting us to the bear house for a window dressing party."  
  
* * *  
  
3007, after Drusilla's departure  
  
"Aimée?"  
  
Squinting into the night, Aimée pokes her head around her door. "Buffy?"  
  
"They're gone, and they took Spike." I step toward her.  
  
Her eyes find me. "And you're visible again." She takes me by the hand and pulls me inside.  
  
"I'm not exactly sure how to trigger it." At her questioning look, I hold up my left hand and explain, "The ring has powers; one of them is the ability to turn invisible. And I'm not sure how to control it."  
  
"Ah. Buffy, I haven't seen a vampire in five years, and that was a whole passel of them. What are they doing back?"  
  
"I honestly don't know. But we need to find the slayer right away. Do you know where to find her?"  
  
"She's moved quite a bit in the last few years, but I think. . . ." Aimée searches through her wrist computer. "Yep, I've got her latest."  
  
"The slayer's still Reyni?" My heart jolts with hope at seeing the young girl. . . woman with dark curls and a spunky laugh again.  
  
"Yep."  
  
"I think we need her help."  
  
* * *  
  
3007, twelve minutes later  
  
A small girl with huge chocolate-colored eyes and a mass of light brown curls meets Aimée and I at the entrance to Reyni's most recent address. She smiles widely, asking politely, "May I help you?"  
  
I squat to the ground on her level. She has to be around four- or five-years-old and clutches a teddy bear to her chest. "Yes, we're looking for Reyni. . . Reyni Zaiman."  
  
"That's my mommy. I'm Aydin. I'm this many years." She holds up five fingers.  
  
"You're five?" I ask brightly. Reyni has a daughter. . . a beautiful daughter, and Reyni used a variation of Ayledan's name. I beam with pride at her as if she is my own.  
  
Aydin nods. "Five. I'll go get Mommy. Wait right here?"  
  
"Yes, we'll wait."  
  
I rise and survey the entranceway to Reyni's apartment. . . neat and tidy hallway with pictures of flowers and light decorating the walls. A stray stuffed bunny lies to one side in a forgotten heap, and for some weird reason, the thought of Anya brings a small smile to my face.  
  
Aydin pops around the corner again. "Who are you?"  
  
Aimée and I exchange glances. I make a quick decision. "Buffy. Tell her it's Buffy."  
  
Obediently, Aydin nods. "Buffy."  
  
She scampers away only to return rather quickly, dragging her mother by the hand. In five years, Reyni hasn't changed much. She is dressed in a loose, multi-colored dress with brown sandals. Her hair is much longer, and her face and gait are still youthful. However, she possesses tightness around her eyes that I've never seen.  
  
Her eyes light with disbelief and hope when she recognizes me. "B- buffy?" Before I have a chance to react, I'm engulfed in her arms. "It's you. Aydin told me who it was, but I didn't believe her. Oh my g. . . , is it really you?" She draws back but keeps her hands on my shoulders.  
  
"Yes, Reyni, it's me." I grin at her.  
  
"But how? I don't understand. You've been dead and gone for five years. And. . . ." She touches my cheek, and I note that we wear matching tears. "You're a-alive."  
  
"Yes, yes I am. It's a long story. But right now, I need your help. Something's happened."  
  
She becomes immediately serious. "What?"  
  
"How long have the vampires been back?"  
  
* * *  
  
3007, thirty-three minutes later  
  
Turns out that Bear Moon is an abandoned nightclub in a deteriorating area of the city. . . a place where vampires would naturally have gravitated in the past. Reyni knew exactly where to go when I told her the details of Drusilla's ramblings. Insane though she is, Drusilla is excellent at dropping clues, and she's definitely not in the slow group. She wants us here for some reason.  
  
The place smells of old sneakers that have been worn too many times without being cleaned by a computer system. Since being closed to the public, the former club has been transformed into a storage warehouse. Judging from the amount of dust and cobwebs in the corners and on surfaces, the place is used to house objects and products that no one wants to claim. No windows adorn the walls, so I'm not sure if Drusilla's "window dressing" comment is insignificant or if it is something I am yet to understand.  
  
The only bright spot in a nightclub is generally the bathroom, which is also probably the only place not currently being used for storage. Sure enough the lights are on in the restroom, and voices filter to us from that direction.  
  
Crouching with Reyni and Aimée behind some poly-synthetic crates reminds me of the many nights Spike and I spent training the now full-grown slayer beside me. Reyni smiles knowingly at me.  
  
"Ready?" Reyni asks with authority. She's definitely grown into her role, but I wonder just how much she's been through since Spike and I were sent into the sun.  
  
"Ready as we'll ever be," Aimée offers, holding up her weapon, a neat black projectile device she invented that shoots bullets that release and inject wood upon impact with flesh.  
  
If I were still the slayer, I would have preferred the stake that Reyni carries, but since I'm virtually human, I bear the same tool as Aimée. Together, the three of us are sure to make short work of the vamps. I only hope none of us ends up getting killed in the process.  
  
"You sure you want to take the lead, Buffy?" Reyni wants to make sure that I'm okay to face a throng of vampires in my weaker human form.  
  
I've confronted enough demons in my day. "Yeah. Let's go."  
  
We charge the bathroom as strategically as we can through the single entrance and narrow doorway. The vampires are automatically alert to our presence and stare with glaring yellow eyes at our gall.  
  
"Buffy," Drusilla drawls. "Welcome, my dear."  
  
"I'm here because you wanted me here. Isn't that right?" I ask the question, so I can use the short delay to quickly survey the room. Expertly, I take in the location of everything in the room.  
  
"Yes, I did," I vaguely hear. Spike is on her right, gagged and tied to the stall post, and nine-fanged minions line the two adjacent walls of the triangular-shaped room. "The muses said you would come if I said the right things."  
  
"So, show me what you wanted to show me."  
  
"After you lower your weapon." She eyes the device in my hand, which is pointed straight at her heart.  
  
"Why should I lower my weapon in a roomful of vampires? Are you crazy? Oh, wait, you *are* crazy."  
  
Hissing, Drusilla brings a long knife to Spike's throat. To his credit, he doesn't move or appear panicked. "Lower your weapon."  
  
My arm moves slowly to my side. At least, Aimée and Reyni still have their weapons trained. I feel better with a slayer and a weapons tech at my back. "Show me."  
  
Drusilla bows slightly with the regality of a princess in a royal court. I'll never have that kind of grace. "As you wish."  
  
She turns her back on me in a display of disdain for our party's strength and walks deliberately the triangular corner of the smooth bathroom walls. She raises her right arm with her index finger and one sharp, scarlet-tipped fingernail extended. Growling deep in the back of her throat, she draws her arm rapidly to the ground as if sketching a line in the air.  
  
Nothing happens for a few seconds.  
  
Then, a small tear forms near the center of the air tracing Drusilla made. Winds begin blowing, and the vortex blossoms outward in a huge whirling circle. Drusilla staggers to Spike's side and raises the knife.  
  
As she lowers the knife, I launch myself at her, knowing that Aimée's device won't fire properly against the gale-like force. I squint against the abrading force of the winds as a minion crashes into me. Barely glimpsing Drusilla bring the knife to Spike, I fall to the ground on my back but manage to fire a bullet into the vampire's chest.  
  
He explodes into dust over me, and I clamor up to view Reyni wrestling with Drusilla. The vampiress had apparently been cutting Spike loose from his restraints because he is struggling to shrug them off his upper body. I momentarily note Reyni's grace and ease before joining Aimée in her battle with the remaining minions in the attempt to reach Spike.  
  
Aimée and I manage to dust five more minions when Drusilla flings Reyni aside. She slumps to the ground unconscious near the vortex. The power from the swirling dimensional tear laps at her ankles and draws her body closer. Fearfully, I rush to her side and bend to grip her shoulders, pulling her away from harm.  
  
"Buffy! Look out!"  
  
Spike's voice startles me, and instinctually I jump just as Drusilla grabs my torso and rips me away from the now shrinking vortex. She hefts my body as if I'm weightless and hurls me into the wall.  
  
Her whisper is harsh above the loud winds that are beating against my ears, "We will be coming. That's the message the muses wanted me to give you." She rakes her long nails down my back, drawing a cry of pain from me as I feel warm, wet blood pouring over my ribs.  
  
A few sharp clicks of her heels later, she and her remaining minions are gone.  
  
The wind ceases.  
  
I want to move, but I can't. My body is screaming in a pain I haven't felt since before I became a slayer.  
  
A gentle hand touches my upper arm and brushes the hair out of my eyes. "Buffy? Sweetheart, are you okay? Can you stand? We have to get you some help. Does this hurt?"  
  
Strong arms reach under and across the front of my body in an effort to turn me over. In response, I groan and lift my head.  
  
"S-spike? Which question do you want me to answer first?"  
  
He winks at me, relief evident in the depths of his eyes. "Give me a crumb, at least, pet."  
  
My stomach drops as he references what's now an amusing moment from our past. Our past? The pain is momentarily forgotten, and I struggle to sit up. Spike's arm slips around my waist to hold me up. "Y-you remember?"  
  
He brushes his lips over mine. . . tender, affectionate, hungry, inviting. I lean in to deepen the kiss, but he pulls away.  
  
His blue eyes are so close to my green ones that my breath catches in my throat. "Yes, love, I remember. . . . I remember every moment."  
  
I reach up to caress his cheek. "That's wonderful news! The best news all day!"  
  
We exchange smiles, and he nuzzles my neck.  
  
"I love you." His words are so simple yet so needed.  
  
"I love you, too. You don't know how much."  
  
"Want the bad news now, pet?" His expression is serious.  
  
"Bad news?" I glance around and gratefully view a very much alive Aimée assisting Reyni.  
  
"Dru took my ring."  
  
TBC. . . 3007 still, Who are the muses Dru is speaking of? How did Dru get here? And what's new with Reyni? Stay tuned!  
  
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!! Hope you had a wonderful time with your families if you got to see them! I'm grateful for many things, including my family and dear friends! I'm also thankful for you, my dear readers, who have given me such encouragement! :o) Thanks bunches!  
  
Sandy http://darkprophecies.net/eternaldevotion 


	7. Part 7

**_3007, three hours later _**

            "Ouch!  Can we stop this, yet?" I whine, knowing that the wounds on my back need sterilizing but not enjoying the process.  One would think that an easier method of sterilization would have been invented by now.  At least, Reyni's guest bed is comfortable beneath my bare stomach.  

            "Hold still, slayer; you know we can't stop until I stitch you up.  We haven't even gotten to that part, yet."  I can tell Spike is concentrating by the way his voice is a bit distant.  

            "Can you really continue to call me 'slayer?'" I tease.  I certainly don't feel like the slayer with my inhuman strength gone.

            "You still think like one, so you are one," he insists.  "Now stop squirming."

            I do my best to stop moving, but my body naturally wants to retreat from the pain of my wounds.  His hands gently grip my ribs to steady me.  "Your hands are so warm.  I'm not used to that."

            "Is that bad or good?" he asks, caressing the unbroken skin on my back.  

            I shiver beneath his touch.  "Mmmm.  Definitely of the good."  

            Soft kisses rain down over my shoulder blades and along my spine.  "You're beautiful.  Have I told you that lately?"

            "Not in the last. . . oh, three years or so."  

            Brushing aside my hair, he nuzzles my neck and breathes warm puffs of air along the short curling hairs.  "How does this feel?"

            "Wonderful."  I sigh.  "Hurry and stitch me up."  I'm feeling irritable, torn between wanting to cuddle with my lover and needing to receive first aid.  

            He returns his attention to the long gashes in my flesh.  He is silent for several seconds and refrains from touching me.  

            Twisting my head around, I notice that he's staring in awe at my back.  "What's wrong?  Surely you aren't that enraptured with the blood.  You're human again, after all."

            "Buffy.  It's not that.  You're healing faster than is to be expected.  In fact, I don't think I need to stitch you up." 

            "Really?"  I try to view my injuries but can't see a thing.  "Weird.  I'm human."

            When he meets my gaze, Spike is thoughtful.  "Hmm.  Didn't your invisible friends say that they created our bodies based on our soul's essence?  Maybe we don't know exactly what they did.  I mean, we seem human, but what if we retained some of our vampire characteristics?"  

            "Or in my case, slayer characteristics, too.  Maybe.  This could turn out to be quite interesting."  Noting that my back is less sore, I sit up on the bed, cradling my knees in my arms.  "Who knows what abilities we've retained?"

            "Obviously not the strength."  Spike shifts until he's behind me.  "Let me put some cream on your back and some bandages."

            "Okay," I reply obediently.  

I close my eyes as he heats the anti-bacterial cream in his hands before applying it to my skin.  His fingers brush light as feathers over my wounds.  He blows air over them when I wince from the stinging.  Then, he carefully pastes bandages over the medicine.  When he is finished, he leans on the bed's headboard and pulls me against his chest, protective arms circling me.  His heartbeat thrums against my injuries, and I relish the feeling of being so alive.  

Spike's breathing becomes deeper beneath me, and I feel myself teetering on the edge of sleep.  I learned the importance of rest and rejuvenation eons ago.  Therefore, I allow myself to give in and welcome my dreams with open arms.  Reyni and the answers can wait a few hours.  

 * * *

**_3007, an unknown amount of time later_**  

            _The world is fuzzy and surreal.  Immediately, I know I'm in the middle of a slayer dream; the dreams are always accompanied by a vague sense of panic and dread.  There was a time when I first became the slayer that I had several slayer dreams each month.  If I didn't frequently block them out or ignore them, they would have overrun my life.  I haven't had one of these in years, so I pay close attention to the details._

_            I'm in the middle of a familiar street in downtown Sunnydale hundreds of years ago.  I glance at my watch and read that the time is four-thirty in the morning.  Contrary to what might be expected in the early morning hour, the street is bustling with vehicles and pedestrians.  "The Expresso Pump" is across the street from where I currently stand, and following my urges, I angle toward the coffee shop.  _

            Out of time and place, I spy Rhonda and Aimée at the bar, chatting quietly.  I attempt to push my way to them but am stopped by the throng of people that have suddenly flooded the establishment.  I make my way past several individuals, but the more people I pass, the further I seem to be from my friends.  I ask some of the people blocking my path if they might let me go by, but none of them hear me.  

_            "How may I help you, hon?" _

            I turn to find the owner of the voice, a petite, dark-haired girl wearing a nametag that read, "Hi!  Welcome to 'The Expresso Pump!'  My name is Jenn!  How may I help you?"  I deduce that she must be a young college student, attempting to pay her way through college.  

_            I offer her a smile.  "Yes, actually.  I'm trying to reach my friends over there.  I have to ask them something important.  Can you help me get to them?"  _

_            She smiles in return and glances the direction in which I'm pointing.  "Oh, them?  They don't have the answers you need.  Hang on, sweetie.  I'll tell you what you need to know.  Just let me get you a drink first."_

_            "Oh!  That would be great!  I'd love a mocha please."_

_            Jenn cradles the empty tray she's carrying under her arm and takes my hand with her free one.  She begins tugging me through the crowd toward a vacant location at the bar.  "No mochas.  I have just the drink for you."_

_            I swing onto the barstool.  With my chin propped on my hands, I survey Jenn as she hurries from one cappuccino and coffee machine to the next, mixing and pouring and adding substances to a giant, white coffee mug.  After several minutes, she slides the cup to me across the wooden countertop.  _

_Peering at the liquid, I note that the fluid is dark, heady, and swirling.  Quickly bringing the ceramic to my lips, I drink long and deep.  The mix is thick and coats the back of my throat like a thick blanket, soothing that ache I hadn't realized was present.  _

_When the truth hits me, I choke and spew the liquid out of my nose and mouth.  Bright red flows over the countertop, the floor, and the machines in front of me.  I open my eyes to see Reyni in front of me. . . covered in the blood I've just emitted everywhere.  Her eyes are angry and accusing, and her skin is alabaster white beneath the blood._

_I am dumbfounded and repelled by my enjoyment of life's liquid. . . just as I am saddened by Reyni's hatred toward me.  Somehow, I feel like I deserve her wrath.  I open my mouth to speak to the slayer before me, but a gentle hand touches my shoulder._

_"Buffy," Jenn's voice ripples over my eardrums, "come on.  There's nothing more to see here.  I need to take you to the means."_

_"Okay."  My throat is sore and hoarse.  Somehow I think that I should recognize Jenn.  "Who are you?  Have I met you before?"_

_"You'll see.  I'm not the important person right now.  Just come."_

_Restraining myself from glancing back at Reyni, I hop down from the stool, intent on obeying Jenn's instruction._

_My head spins as my surroundings completely transform.  My hand instinctively reaches out and uses the wall to steady myself.  The Summers home. . . the home of my teenage years fills my senses.  The living room is filled with brilliant, warm sunlight from the front windows, and I slowly circle the room, running my fingers over the sofa where my mother died, the top of the television, the cabinets filled with stereo equipment, and the finely-carved wooden chest Xander created for my birthday.  _

_Jenn leans in the doorway with her arms crossed.  Her eyes sparkle at me._

_"Where?" I ask her._

_She simply points up the staircase.  _

_Not the least bit afraid, I climb the stairs deliberately, enjoying the light wafts of my mother's perfume and the hints of citrus that remind me of Dawn.  _

_Then, without warning, Dawn is in front of me. . . the 14-year-old Dawn of my teenage years.  Memories of my incredible depression and posttraumatic stress after returning from the grave. . . Dawn's shop-lifting. . . Xander's breakdown at the altar. . . Spike's desperate attempts to better himself. . . Willow's descent into madness. . . Tara's sweet strength and terrible death. . . Anya's sorrow and return to demon-hood. . . fill my consciousness.  _

_Dawn grins at me and throws herself into my arms.  "Buffy," she breathes into my ear as we clutch each other with the desperation of two people who have spent too  much time apart.  Words escape me.  _

_When we part, Dawn whispers, "See."_

_Then, she rapidly shrinks before my eyes, and before I can make sense of what is happening, the small form of Aydin stands before me.  _

_"I'm this many," Aydin says shyly, holding up five fingers.  "Find him."_

A great sense of sorrow overcomes me, and I fall to my knees before the little girl, weeping.  My hair and hands cover my cheeks, and my whole body rocks as my tears pour forth.

* * *

**_3007, a few seconds later_**

            Strong arms encircle me, holding me fast and keeping me from thrashing about.  "Buffy!  Wake up!  You're having a nightmare and crying!  Love, wake up!"

He waits for me as he knows I need him to do, stroking my back and taking care not to re-open my wounds.  My sobs fade until I am hiccupping against Spike.  When I am calm, I find words to explain my tears.

"A slayer dream.  I-I'm not sure exactly what it means."  I pull back from Spike, facing him evenly.

"How long has it been since you had one of those?"  Spike brushes the loose strands sticking to my tear-stained cheeks out of my face, tucking them behind my ear.  

"Since I was human.  Maybe I'm having them again because I'm human again.  I'm so confused by what's happening to me. . . to us. . . I mean, what am I now?"  I shake my head.  That's a question to ask myself later when things calm down.  "There were so many images in this dream that I can't make sense of them.  They all seemed significant."

"How do you know what to pay attention to?"  Spike keeps his hands loose on his thighs as I rise to pace.  

"I usually don't know until something more happens.  I mean, I can make speculations, but they aren't always true."  

A beep fills the air, and Reyni speaks as clearly as though she is present in our room, "I hate to wake you up because I know you're resting, but I wanted to let you know that there are some people here that you need to meet. . . about what's happening."

TBC. . . First, I must apologize for the lack of updates on this series. . . I've been busily writing a Spuffy Christmas fic.  Given the recent events on the show, I wanted to write a happy story! :o) It's called, "Even Humans Take a Break from War," based on the story that even in WWII, the two opposing sides took a break and sang Christmas carols on Christmas day in the trenches.  That story may be a myth, but it inspired me to write the short Christmas series which is now complete.  

Now, my focus returns here.  I hope you enjoy this chapter and haven't given up on the series! Your support means a lot! *hugs* 

Sandy :o)

http://www.secretloft.com/ed/


	8. Part 8

**_3007, ten minutes later_**

            "Meet Caro and Eric," Reyni introduces the two young individuals seated across from Spike and me in her guest entertainment room.

            Caro is tall and slender with reddish blond hair and milky white skin.  She wears a tight pink jumpsuit and pink boots.  Eric is stocky with dark hair and coloring; a pair of old-fashioned glasses perches on his nose.  Both are fidgeting nervously in our presence.  They appear to be so young that they can't possibly be who Reyni claims them to be.  

            "They are members of the Watcher's Council."  

            "But didn't the Council disband after we were killed?"  I am confused and partially annoyed with Reyni.  Perhaps my mixed feelings are partly due to the disturbing dream I had of her.  

            "Yes, but there were a wide variety of opinions about what the fate of the Council should be," Reyni explains.

            As if needing reassurance that she is not alone, Caro glances at Eric before opening her mouth, "A small group of us wanted the Council to remain active in case the demons returned.  Most of the Council retired."

            "How many Watchers are left?" Spike asks, his hand settling lightly over my hand.  

            Eric bites his lip.  "Counting Caro and I?  Two."

            "Really?"  This is what's left of the Watcher's Council?  I recall the throng of Watchers that literally filled the huge auditorium where Spike and I were placed on trial.  I am also disconcertedly reminded of a time when the First Evil destroyed the Watchers Council and the slayers-in-training.  

            "Yes.  We're it," Caro confirms as she shifts position again.  

            "I filled them in on what happened to you," Reyni changes the subject of scrutiny away from the neophyte Watchers.  "Since your death on this plane and your return to Earth."

            Spike sits back, crossing his arms.  "Do you have any clue about where the vamps are coming from?" 

            Eric nods.  "We believe that a source with information on this matter can be found on the moon. . . in a nightclub called 'The Lunar Tide.'"

            "Hmm.  Sounds like you already have a plan in place," I note, frowning at not being included in the decision-making process.

            "We do."  Caro glances apprehensively from Spike to me.  "We thought that since you two have the power of invisibility. . ."

            "Umm," Spike interrupts, lifting a hand.  "*Buffy* has the power of invisibility, pet. . . not me. . ."

            "And," I add, "I'm not sure I can control the ability well enough for it to be of any use in what I think you're going to say the plan is."

            "You haven't even heard the plan."  In typical Watcher fashion, Eric is clearly losing patience.  Touchy, touchy.  

            "Lemme guess, mate.  You want Buffy and I to go into the club, mingle with the crowd, and discover who knows information about how the vamps are getting back into this dimension.  Once we figure out who's responsible, we put a stop to it anyway we can," Spike says, a finger popping out from his fist with each point he makes.

            "Yes," Reyni agrees in an effort to avoid the confrontation that a seething Eric looks ready to initiate.

            "How many vamp sightings have there been?  And how long ago did they start?" I am slipping into commanding slayer mode.  "Have other types of demons been present?

            "There've only been vampires, and there have been isolated sightings across Earth for the last. . . oh, six months or so.  Eric, Caro, and I took out a rather large nest about a week ago on the other side of the world.  Seems the vamps are trying to tie themselves to our dimension. . . to Earth again.  So far, though, we have no reports of new vampires though.  And the demon return has been kept from the world government and thus the press."

            "And the retired Watchers. . . do they know what's happening?"  Spike leans forward as I speak, putting his hand to his mouth and balancing his knees on his thighs.  He is thinking hard about something.  

            "We contacted all of them but got no response," Caro mentions.

            I wonder why.  "Too busy enjoying the luxurious life to come out of denial for a few minutes."  

            "Probably.  Anyway,. . ."

            Aydin's voice rises above Caro's as she barrels toward Reyni, "Mommy!  I want a snack!"  

            Reyni catches the little girl in her arms and swings her onto her lap.  "Just a minute, sweetie.  Mommy's in an important meeting.  We're almost done, and when we are, I'll get you a snack."

            "What's the meeting about, Mommy?"  Aydin's wide eyes pass over the four strangers.  

            "Mommy's work, honey."

            "Oh."  Apparently, Aydin's heard this speech before because she leans back against her mother, poking her thumb in her mouth.

            Reyni tugs her daughter's thumb out.  "No sucking your thumb, Aydin.  Remember how you're a big girl now?"

            "Still little!"  Aydin sticks out her lower lip, contemplating an extreme pout.

            "You're five, sweetie.  You're a big girl, and big girls don't suck their thumb," Reyni reasons, stroking Aydin's curls.  Aydin is obviously placated.  "Go on, Caro."

            "You sure she should hear this?" Caro asks uncertainly.  Exactly what I'm thinking.

            "She's going to hear it eventually.  Why not have her know the truth about my job before she gets into danger?"  Reyni peers around at Aydin's sweet face.  "Aydin, what do you do if a person with pointy teeth comes after you?"

            "If I'm near people, I scream, so someone can come help me.  I tell them that the bad person was trying to hurt me," Aydin proudly recites.  She mimes the actions behind her next words.  "If I'm by myself, I hold up my cross so they get scareder than me, and I throw the magic water on them and burn them.  Then, I run away to find some people who don't have pointy teeth."  

            "Good girl."  Reyni kisses her daughter's plump cheek, and Aydin triumphantly beams at all of us.  "Caro?"

            Caro restarts, "Anyway, the plan.  Um, Reyni, Rhonda, and Aimée are going with you to investigate other potential leads while you handle the moon club.  Right now, Rhonda and Aimée are gathering weapons for all of us."

            "And you and Eric will be doing what exactly?" Spike asks with sarcasm.  

            "Holding the fort on Earth and resuming attempts to recruit other Watchers to the cause."

            "Let's get to it then."  I rise to my feet with renewed confidence.  "Where are Rhonda and Aimée?  I want to check out what weapons they've managed to discover."

            Reyni grins.  "Rhonda's going to be so excited to see you both."        

            "Can I come to the moon, too?" Aydin asks eagerly.

            Reyni shakes her head.  "No, sweetie.  You're going to stay here with Daddy."

            "Don't wanna."  Aydin punches her mother's upper arm.  

A smile touches my lips as I am amazed and amused by the little girl's boldness.

* * *

**_3007, twenty-two hours later_**

            Because the moon is closer to the Earth than Mars, travel time is much faster.  Small speeder ships are used for transport to and from the planet to its moon.  The ships burn fuel too quickly to be used for Earth-Mars travel.  Thanks to Aimée, Spike and I easily use our false human identification to cross authority boundaries at numerous checkpoints.  Aydin appeared halfway through the trip to the moon, having snuck onboard to be with her mother.  Reyni didn't know what to do with her adventurous daughter, so she housed her in a local daycare facility with reputable security.

I've only been to the moon a few times.  The moon is fairly small with only one large settlement, complete with its own miniature government, school system, housing, etcetera.  As far as we know, few demons or vampires have ever been sighted here.  The population is too small for dead or even wounded victims to go unnoticed, and the stored blood supply is minimal.  I must admit that I'm a bit surprised that a contact connected to the vamps might be here.  

"The Lunar Tide" turns out to be the sole dance club on the moon.  Rhonda, Aimée, and Reyni have begun their own investigation, so Spike and I approach the club.  The outside of the club is fairly nondescript.  Only a small, slivered neon moon glows above the lone door.  Thrumming music pours forth from the darkness of the club's inner core, and I feel myself starting to involuntarily respond to the beat.  At the club entrance, an attendant takes our coats, and instantly, I feel completely naked.

Probably because I *am* almost completely naked.  Aimée reassured us that our outfits were the norm, but I don't feel normal.

I am barely covered in the shortest red mini-skirt that can ever have been created and a scarlet-colored, sleeveless top with a neckline that plunges to my belly button.  Thin straps cover my breasts.  Glitter is spread over every inch of my exposed skin, and affixed with multiple rhinestones, my long hair swings loose and perfumed about my shoulders.  

Before plummeting into the darkened main area, I turn to face Spike and redden.  He's almost completely naked as well. . . at least the upper half of him is.  He's wearing tight black pants and nothing else.  Lucky him, he doesn't have to wear glitter or rhinestones.  As with my outfit, no shoes cover his feet, and no shirt covers his well-muscled torso.  The heat virtually radiates off of him, and I find myself desiring to do more than dance with him.  

            "What's wrong, love?" Spike teases.  He seems maddeningly unfazed by his condition, but I've always been more modest than he.  "Embarrassed to be seen with me?"    

            "This is worse than the time we disguised ourselves as those demons. . . whatever they were called. . ."

            Spike is confounded by my story.  "What demons?" he asks softly, letting me know to lower my volume.

            I follow his lead to speak more quietly but still be heard over the blaring music.  I point in a gesture reminiscent of Xander.  "You know. . . the ones we pretended to be when we went to see Prenwick the first time."  

            "Ah.  The really ugly ones?  The watchamacallits?"  Spike is on the edge of smirking at me, and I am on the edge of smacking him.

            "Yes!  Hey!  How come we always get stuck with the undercover work?" I whisper close to his ear in a mock huff.

            "Just our lot in life, pet," Spike assures me, his voice almost deepening into a growl.  "Time to dance."

He takes a self-assured step toward me and trails his fingers over my forearms.  A shivery thrill courses through me as he walks backward into the club, tugging me with him.  At the moment, I will follow him anywhere.  

The main room is the shape of the full moon.  Twin bars line the left and right walls, and a stage rises prominently above the dance floor across from the entrance.  The lights are dim and the atmosphere swirls with cinnamon-scented smoke and glitter that clings to the haze.  People crowd the dance floor, dancing in an amorphous bunch to the heady beat of the music.  

The fast-paced song ends just as Spike and I make our way to the dancing area.  The sea of dancers parts, leaving us virtually alone.  The transition to the next song is uncertain, but the tempo slows considerably.  

Almost in thrall, I gaze at the singer.  She is mesmerizing with flowing dark hair that curls softly over her shoulders, covering her naked breasts.  A slip of a silver skirt barely covers her swaying hips.  Trails of star-shaped rhinestones track down her arms to long, light-colored fingernails that catch the black lights and virtually glow.  Her face is heavily made up with glitter, heavy eye shadow, and deep red lipstick.  When she starts crooning, she catches my eyes, or at least I think she does, and she smiles, flashing perfect teeth.  

Somehow I recognize her face, but with the makeup and dim lighting, I can't quite place her.

All of a sudden, I find myself pressed against a warm chest.  "May I have this dance, love?"

"This one, and all the others," I reply earnestly.

"I'll make sure to clear my dance card, then."  He pauses.  "Did you know that in my human days, I never once danced with a lady?"

"Hmm.  Why not?"  I am starting to drown in his presence.

"They all rejected me."  His voice is low and husky.

The musk Spike is wearing fills my nose as I stare up into his cerulean eyes.  His hands rove over my hips that have unconsciously begun moving on their own.  I press as close to him as physical matter will allow, not removing my eyes from his.  His hips begin emulating my actions, and he bends to bury his head in my hair.  

"Well, there will never be rejection here," I murmur with my cheek against his bare skin, stroking the firm muscles on his back.  

"Good."  He pulls back from me, his fingers landing at the small of my back.  "Have you missed this between us?"

"How can you ask me that?" I wonder, pushing closer to him.  

He's moving us with more urgency now, and the truth dawns as I feel the strength of his need.  We haven't made love since the restoration of our relationship.  I use all my strength to not take him in public, but the throb of the music is seductive and resonating.  

In one motion, I bring his head down to mine and sweep my lips over his, darting my tongue briefly between his lips so that he audibly groans.  "I love you.  And I'll always want you. . . and only you."

Reminding me of his vampire days, he growls deep in the back of his throat.  "I love you, too, pet.  Always."

"Can we leave now?" I ask suggestively.  

Spike's merriment shines in his eyes.  "Not now.  We have a mission to accomplish."

"Damn mission."

Abruptly, the song ends, and Spike and I reluctantly part and turn from each other to discover that we are virtually the only ones who have been dancing.  Several people are watching us from side tables.  So much for being inconspicuous.  Spike places a hand on my shoulder blade, guiding me to an empty table.  

A male voice comes over the speakers, "Miss Genevieve will now take a short break.  Until she comes back, relax, grab a drink, and rest your dance feet."

The singer bounces lightly from the stage and slips toward the bar.  Something inside of me says that I should talk with her.  I poke Spike.

"I'm going to go ask her a few questions."

Spike nods.  "And I'll take the vagrants across the room.  Want something to drink while I'm up?"  

I give him a look.  "Alcohol?  Human me?  I don't think so.  And we're on a mission.  No time to get drunk because we're not used to our human bodies."

Spike rolls his eyes playfully.  "It's so I have a reason to cross over there, pet.  Not for us to actually drink."

            "Oh.  Got it.  Good luck, sweetie."  I rise and head to my destination after squeezing Spike's hand a final time.  

            Miss Genevieve is lounging on the end of the bar closest to the stage, chatting with the bartender and sipping a glass of something.  I approach her cautiously.  She faces me right when I am about to speak her name.

            "Hello.  Aren't you quite the little dancer?  You and that nice-looking young guy."  She takes a long drink.

            My mouth drops open in shock.  "Jenn?"  This close to her, I recognize the girl from my dreams beneath her coat of makeup.

            "Yeah, girl.  That's what my friends call me.  Genevieve is just my stage name."  She sets the drink aside.  "Do I know you?"

            I bite my lip and plunge in, "Do you have someplace more private where we could talk?"

            She guides me to a place deeper in the shadows.  "This is as good as it gets.  Bothersome club owners don't even give me my own dressing room.  Now what do you need from me?"

            Relying on the information from my slayer dream, I boldly ask, "What do you know about the recent vampire sightings?"

            Jenn closes her eyes.  Drawing in a deep breath, she reopens them.  Staring back at me is a golden pair of vampire eyes.  "Quite a bit actually."  

TBC. . . We're gonna change times now. . . and places.  So, get ready.  You will learn the fate of Buffy and Spike's adventure at the club, and it's a doozy, so get ready! ;o)

Next chapter I write will be chapter two of "Three Wishes," my Spuffy Aladdin fic! 

Take care, sweeties!

Sandy

http://www.toomanycolors.net/sensibility 


	9. Part 9

an unknown dimension, approximately 15 Earth years later  
  
I'd do just about anything to gain knowledge about Spike's well being. After all, I haven't seen him for fifteen years.  
  
I've never been one for skulking in shadows or hiding from my foes. Buffy Summers is a take-charge, action-oriented kind of girl. . . woman. I'm an ex-slayer and an ex-vampire. Let's just say that makes me anything but shy or timid when I'm forced into a fight. But, for now, I'll stick to the creeping in the darkness. And I suppose I've learned the value of observing the enemy from afar before jumping into full attack mode. On the other hand, maybe being imprisoned by vampires for such a long time makes anything seem like action.  
  
Over the last fifteen years, I've perfected the art of invisibility, using the ring I still wear on my finger. Today is my first "real" attempt to use my new skill. Slipping out of the cell where Rhonda, Aydin, Aimée, Jenn, and I are housed was easy given the unchanging patterns of our captors. The hard part is making my way through the maze of confinement blocks and finding where Spike is housed.  
  
Luckily, I have my flight plan pretty well laid out. The prisoner across the hall, a human of unknown origins, knows the place forward and backward. Poor guy's been taken out of his cell and tortured enough. He's reportedly glimpsed Spike at his torture sessions, which makes me worry even more.  
  
Although dimly lit, the prison hallways are almost obsessively clean. Spike always said Drusilla was a neat freak, liking everything in perfect order. Keep her environment tidy gave her some semblance of control over her insanity like autistic children who don't want anything in their surroundings changed. Makes me wonder why she chose a sticky, goopy Chaos demon when she cheated on Spike centuries ago.  
  
Thanks to slayer training, I hear the vampire guard before he gets within twenty feet of me. Chastising myself for getting distracted from my task, I press my torso against the nearby wall and hold my breath, praying he walks by without stopping to search for the source of the human stench and heartbeat that I'm surely broadcasting to his ears.  
  
Stupid vampires never fail to act counter to my wishes.  
  
His body tenses as he goes on hyper-alert, his hand reaching for the submission stick at his waist. I flinch involuntarily at his gesture, having been on the receiving end of that stick one too many times. As he approaches me, he carefully checks the shadows at each cell entrance that's set back from the narrow hall. Hesitating at my side, he recognizes the source of his senses' suspicions but appears confused about the lack of solid evidence.  
  
Preparing myself to defend and run, I fight valiantly to contain the urge to inhale deeply in response to my rapidly pounding heart. The vampire stands inches from me, sniffing the air in short huffs and raising the stick at me.  
  
As he swings the weapon, an uproar of kicking and pounding echoes loudly at the end of the cellblock, giving me the cover I need to duck and slip past the vampire. He charges toward the sound, intent on showing the offending noisemaker that he's the boss.  
  
The clattering and banging that results brings more vampires to the scene, so I hide in a doorway until they're all safely past. With a grin on my face, I rush the opposite direction, confident that I'll reach Spike without further hindrance. I might even get to spend several more minutes than I anticipated with him. Prisoner takedowns can take quite a while, considering that Dru's vampires tend to enjoy inflicting pain slowly.  
  
Two floors down and six-and-a-half cellblocks later, I arrive at my destination. Entering into cells from the outside is simpler than getting out of them, so I push my way in without further thought.  
  
Stumbling into the well-lit cell, I almost fall over the trail of dishes and shoes that the occupant has purposefully laid out as a primitive alarm system. Smart. I grab the nearest object and use it to prop open the door, so I can exit later.  
  
The figure on the bed rolls my direction but remains shrouded in a cloak of ink. A familiar accent blessedly fills my ears, "Who's there? Come on out. I right say that it's bloody unfair for you to come back so soon. My time's already passed just yesterday, and if I'm right, I'm not due up for another five days or so."  
  
My throat is suddenly blocked by emotion, and I'm so overcome that I find no power to voice words.  
  
"Where are you? The door's open, but I can't see anyone." Spike pauses, his legs appearing over the edge of the bunk. "I don't have time for games. It's my nap time."  
  
Then, I remember that he can't see me. I'm invisible.  
  
Flying at him, I launch myself onto his lap, flinging my arms around him and inhaling the warm, alive scent that I've clung to for the past fifteen years. He grunts softly at the impact, but with the sense memory of a thousand years, his arms automatically find their way around my waist. Instinctually, his hand shakily goes to my face, and his fingers explore the familiar curves and indentions. When his fingertips pass over my lips, I press a gentle kiss to his flesh, and he moans at the gesture.  
  
"B-buffy?" His voice is so filled with desperation that I barely detect sound.  
  
Untangling my arms from around him, I tug off the ring that's worn a groove in my finger. Even in darkness, I witness the light that's born in his eyes when he views me. "Yes, Spike. It's me."  
  
With a small cry, he buries his head in my neck, planting an array of firm kisses to my neck and along the line of my chin. He tightens his arms around me to assure himself that I'm firm and real. "Oh my g. . . . I love you so much. And if this is a mirage induced by the beatings, don't tell me. Let me enjoy this moment. Please."  
  
"What do you mean beatings?" I pull back and make sure my eyes fix on his azure ones.  
  
Gazing down, only then do I notice the state of his body.  
  
What's visible of his skin on his arms, legs, face, and neck reveals deep bruises and long lacerations that are still oozing fluids, blood and pus. Some of the welts are so red and puffy that I'm scared they might be infected. Hesitantly, I touch a cut on his arm with as much gentleness as I can manage, and he lets out a hiss of pain.  
  
"Spike," I whisper, studying the scars on his beautiful face. "What have they done to you?"  
  
Tears fill his eyes, and he brings his hands to cover his ruined face. "Are you real? Do you still love me?"  
  
I recall his tenderness after I was burned beyond belief by the sun. Compassion and love course through me, and I realize that being human means his wounds might never completely fade. "I'm real. I promise. I'm here. You aren't hearing or seeing things." I pull his hands down as soothingly as possible and kiss his knuckles lovingly. "And, yes, I will never stop loving you with all my heart and soul."  
  
"It won't heal properly. It's horrible to look at."  
  
I hate how he refers to himself as a thing. . . the way I used to do. The memory is bittersweet. "*You* are not horrible to look at. You think a little scar or two would kill my love for you after a thousand years? Maybe if I was sixteen-years-old, but I'm not an egocentric teenager. I'm me. You're you, and you're as handsome as the day I met you."  
  
He looks at me uncertainly, so I continue, "Do you remember the day we met? You sent a vamp after me just to observe my whatever you want to call it. . . slayer form or something. I remember thinking to myself that you were the biggest predator I'd ever met."  
  
Something of a smirk plays at the edges of his lips. "I was, wasn't I, pet?"  
  
"Hardly."  
  
"What do you mean 'hardly'?"  
  
"Okay, so maybe you've been the biggest *pain* in my side since the day I met you, but you're hardly the worst predator I've ever faced," I modify slightly.  
  
He grins. "Pain in your side. Hmm. That could be good. At least, you'll always notice me."  
  
I nudge his tender nose with mine. "I got so used to the pain in the butt that is you that I've been trying desperately to reach you for fifteen years."  
  
A low whistle emits from his lips. "Fifteen years?"  
  
I nod. "Yep."  
  
"I lost track after I started being beaten unconscious most of the time," Spike admits.  
  
"What's the deal with all the beatings?"  
  
He shrugs. "Dru couldn't handle the fact that I wouldn't let her re- vamp me and that I didn't love her anymore. . . didn't want to play our games anymore. She doesn't actually participate. . . just lets her little flunkies have a round. . . or two or three with me."  
  
"She wanted to re-vamp you?" Somehow I'm hardly surprised. "And other things. How come if you don't have sex with a woman, she tries to beat you to death?"  
  
Spike laughs, and the sound is music to my ears. "I don't know, pet. I don't know." When the laughter fades from his eyes, he asks, "How long do you have with me?"  
  
I glance furtively at the door. "More time than you think."  
  
"How did you get here?"  
  
"A lot of careful planning. While Dru's vamps have been harassing you, they've pretty much left us alone," I explain, enjoying the feel of his fingers in my hair.  
  
"Us?"  
  
"Rhonda, Aimée, Jenn, Aydin, and I have been holed up in a cell together. It's bigger than yours. We've been devising a way. . ."  
  
"Who's Jenn, love?"  
  
"From 'The Lunar Tide." The singer." Surely he remembers.  
  
Spike shook his head in confusion. "Why would Dru care about her? I was investigating the group at the other end of the club. I believe they knocked me unconscious fairly early on. I don't know a thing that happened after except that I landed here."  
  
"Oh!" I think for a minute about how to recap the events and what I've learned most efficiently. "Jenn is a slayer-in-training. Dru's minions captured her on one of their brief visits to Earth. Apparently, they needed slayer blood to continue to open the portal between dimensions due to the Prenwick fiasco. They thought turning her would make things easier on them, but it didn't."  
  
"Because her blood changed on the turning," Spike speculates.  
  
"Yes. And she didn't lose her soul because she's a slayer. . . or was at least a potential one. So, they devised a trap to lure Reyni to the moon. Although they didn't exactly capture Reyni."  
  
"They got Aydin though."  
  
"And they've been able to use her blood to do partial openings. At least, they take her blood every week." Aydin usually comes back to the cell a pale, unconscious wreck. Thankfully, they don't beat her. She never speaks of what else they do to her besides draw blood.  
  
Spike is thoughtful. "They *are* opening gateways. A slayer's daughter has powerful blood as well. From what I heard, they've opened quite a few gateways, but they can't fully re-open the channels to the way they were prior to Prenwick's spell until they have Reyni's blood."  
  
"Something big is brewing, and we have a plan. I wanted you to know. It took me a long time to find a way to get to you. I was really worried about you." I stroke his broken face as if I'm afraid I might never see him again.  
  
"And I about you." He pulls me close despite the pain. "I'm always with you, you know that?" His hand covers my heart. "Right here."  
  
Tears well at the thought of having to go back to my crowded cell and allowing Spike to be harmed again. "I'm not leaving just yet."  
  
"You're not?"  
  
Conveying the "no" with my eyes, I bring my lips to his with all the pent up passion I've banished for the last fifteen years. I melt into the warmth that I've only imagined, wanting. . . needing to become one with my love.  
  
He speaks against my mouth before continuing to kiss me, "The guards, love."  
  
Breathing heavily, I whisper, "We have plenty of time."  
  
Spike requires no further encouragement.  
  
Determined to show him how much I love him, scars and all, we make quiet, deep, and passionate love on his bunk, undisturbed by the vampire guards.  
  
TBC. . .  
  
What is Drusilla's big plan? How can Buffy and crew stop it? What will happen to Spike? Stay tuned. . .  
  
Next chapter will be for "Three Wishes." :o)  
  
Thanks for the great reviews! They mean a lot! ;o) Sandy  
  
http://www.secretloft.com/ed/ 


	10. Part 10

A/N: One reviewer kindly pointed out that Buffy and Spike and the other humans are 15 years older. Are they really old? No. Recall in "Confronting the Sun" that humans in the year 3000+ live on average 200 years. I just wanted to clarify any confusion! ;o)  
  
an unknown dimension, five months later  
  
"It's almost time," I remind Aimée as she hurries with the weapons she's fashioning.  
  
"Almost done," she reassures me, giving me a handful of makeshift stakes. She continues her harried work on her bunk.  
  
The weapons are a bit awkward, but what can I expect given our limited resources? Aimée's combined the metal spoons from our dinner trays with pieces of a broken mop handle that Jenn found on one of our many scavenging expeditions, creating the stakes we'll use on our sabotage attack.  
  
Rhonda's anxious about her granddaughter, Aydin, and twists a stake in her hand. "What do you think they're doing to her?"  
  
Dru's minions took Aydin away a week ago, and she hasn't been returned. This is cause for concern because she's normally gone for only about a day when her blood is needed for the temporary dimension openings. Jenn spoke to one of her contacts in a nearby cell two days ago, and the captive told her that the vampires are planning a large ritual or event of some kind for today or tomorrow.  
  
Jenn pats Rhonda on the shoulder. Amazing how close we've become in fifteen years of living in a cramped cell together. "I'm sure she's fine. Well, as fine as she can be given our current state of captivity. We're going to rescue her before they do anything horrible to her. I have faith."  
  
"Yes! We're all going to be fine. I'm going to make sure of it," I add. Protecting my friends seems to have become my goal in life. Jenn seems to feel the same way as a slayer-in-training.  
  
"Done," Aimée announces. "That's all I've got. Think it'll be enough?" She passes three stakes to Rhonda and Jenn, keeping three for her own use.  
  
"We'll make it enough."  
  
"But how's Spike going to defend himself?" Rhonda asks, pulling her long curls back into a ponytail.  
  
I've visited Spike twice since my initial contact with him. Each time, his beatings have rendered him weaker and more wounded. I could hardly touch him without causing him discomfort. Somehow, I don't think he'll be up to fighting with us. "He's actually been practicing with my ring. For most of the fight, he'll be invisible and going after Aydin while we distract Drusilla and her crew."  
  
"Good idea," Jenn notes. "And after he gets Aydin? . . ."  
  
"We cluster together and link arms while Buffy and Spike do the chant to open the dimensional portal to the place where they were reborn," Aimée reminds Jenn as she stows her stakes in her pockets and up her sleeve.  
  
"Right," I concur. I never thought I'd be seeing Thayne, Theos, and Thalia again. I can't recall when I've felt so nervous about a plan. Maybe the others' reactions are making me uncertain about the feasibility of what we're about to do. Maybe being human leads me to feel more vulnerable about the impending battle.  
  
Rhonda sighs. "I'm ready."  
  
Gazing around our dimly lit cell that carries the familiar smell of decay and damp moss, I decide that I've never been more ready to leave a place where I've lived. Even living with Nabald's clan was cozier than this.  
  
I nod my head. The vampire guards are between shifts. "Let's go."  
  
* * *  
  
an unknown dimension, a few minutes later  
  
"It's a shame we can't set them all free," Jenn whispers as we wander through the halls. The captives in this facility are innocents, caged to use as an unending source of fresh blood for the hundreds of vampires banished from Earth. For some unknown reason, Drusilla had not targeted us. . . with the exception of Aydin.  
  
"I know," I return, "and we will. But we need to gather our resources before we can do anything about that."  
  
"I agree," Aimée adds, her voice carefully modulated to not show much emotion. "We need to wait until we're proportionally numbered and have better weapons. Otherwise, we'll do the other captives more harm than good. If we keep them out of it now, they'll have less of a chance of being punished by the vamps once we're gone."  
  
I smile at Aimée in understanding. When she was seven-years-old, her entire family was killed by vampires. Since that time, she has made her life's mission to help others in need and create weapons with which to defend against vampires and other demons. Aimée also is the clown of the group, always making us laugh in the most dire of straits. Her humor reminds me a bit of Xander, but her personality is like Willow's, sweet and generous.  
  
"We almost at Spike's cell?" Rhonda wonders, looking a bit lost in the maze of cellblocks. We've been cooped up far too long. Orienting takes a while.  
  
"Yes, he's actually on this row," I explain, heart singing with the desire to have him physically by my side once again. I wish we still had the ability to communicate with our minds, but after the Council disbanded, their research was terminated.  
  
"I wish I knew him like you guys do." Jenn sighs. She swings a stake as she walks, ready for action.  
  
"You *will* get to know him," I reassure her. "We just have to get out of here first!" We reach Spike's door. "Here he is."  
  
The others allow me to go to him. I am torn inside, partly with desire to rush to his side, to touch him, and partly with dread to view what Drusilla's minions have done to him now.  
  
He is curled in an unmoving ball on the bunk.  
  
"Spike?" My query carries my fear and concern.  
  
His voice hoarse and raspy, he murmurs, "Ah, pet, you've come at a bad. . ." His words are disrupted by a harsh cough.  
  
I am at his side instantly, trying to examine him. "Spike. What did they do to you?" He turns his head from me. "Let me see you."  
  
He sounds tired. "Oh, I'm not sure you want to see this."  
  
I rub his upper arm tenderly. "I don't care. I want to see you. And we have to go. Aydin's in trouble. Dru's doing something big today."  
  
Relenting, Spike forgets his appearance and sits up quickly. "What?"  
  
Before I have a chance to censor my reaction, I gasp, and my eyes widen. One of Spike's brilliant blue eyes is a gaping mess of blood and other unknown fluids. He's cleaned the wound up as best he can, but the effect is still horrific.  
  
Spike chuckles softly and winces from the pull on his desecrated eye socket. "Dru decided to blind me. You know her. She decided I needed extra punishing."  
  
"When?" I place a hand over his heart to reassure myself that the steady beat is still strong.  
  
Although he can't form a proper facial expression due to the pain in his eye, his good eye sparkles with joy at my presence. "Today. Probably because she has something planned, and she wanted a reaction from me."  
  
"Can you walk?"  
  
Snorting lightly and gritting his teeth, he swings his legs to the ground and stands firm. "She didn't touch my legs, love."  
  
I let him get away with his sarcasm because he's so hurt. "And you remember the plan?"  
  
Holding up his ring, he nods. "Yeah. Got the plan and got the goods." He notes the tension in my shoulders and softens. "We'll make it out, love. We always do."  
  
* * *  
  
an unknown dimension, twenty minutes later  
  
From his endless trips out of his cell, Spike leads us easily to the area where he believes Drusilla will likely conduct rituals. The room was vast and spacious with a landscape of interwoven shadows and dim lights. We five trespassers crouch at the edges of the arena. The air has no particular scent but is flavored with an essence of expectation.  
  
Vampires blend with the darkness, standing well back but facing a brightly lit dais in the center. Rhonda inhales sharply as she witnesses Aydin being lowered onto the platform with her hands and feet bound. Her neck a mass of scars from being ripped and torn by vampires, Aydin proudly holds her head high, hair flowing over her shoulders, as if she is untouched by evil. Her mouth is not gagged, but she makes no sound.  
  
Without preamble, Drusilla strides forth from one cluster of vampires, ebony skirts rippling around her long legs. She approaches Aydin and smiles at her, sharp teeth flashing.  
  
Drusilla's voice is seductive and almost inaudible as she inquires, "Do you know why you're here today, little one?"  
  
Aydin doesn't grant Drusilla a reply and stares through the vampiress as if she is not directly in front of her.  
  
Drusilla's face transforms into her vampire mask, and she roars angrily, slapping Aydin's face and drawing her sharp fingernails across both her cheeks.  
  
Oxygen-filled blood pours crayon red over Aydin's fair cheeks, gushing down her chin and covering the scars on her neck. The plump flesh of her cheeks is laid aside, revealing the ivory of her skull.  
  
Aydin never reacts, but she doesn't seem absent from the situation. A fire only grasped by few lights her eyes.  
  
Rhonda reacts to her granddaughter's torture by straining to run forward. Spike restrains her by holding her arms. The rest of us stare with grim silence.  
  
Five vampires wearing hooded cloaks melt out and detach from the darkness, chanting together in a language I've never heard.  
  
As Drusilla cackles and begins to lap up the life-giving fluid on Aydin's neck, I realize that our time is running short. My muscles bunch and prepare for action. Spike's hand is warm on my back. He knows.  
  
As the chanting becomes louder and our group begins to advance, Drusilla speaks again, "We need your heart. A pulsing, living thing to complete the story. To open the door. To return us home. To Earth."  
  
When I plunge my stake into the back of the first minion I reach, I catch Drusilla watching me out of the corner of her eye. She knew we were present all along!  
  
Hand clawed, she plunges her hand into Aydin's ribcage and wrenches back, pulling out the girl's pounding heart. As Aydin's body momentarily hangs suspended and slowly collapses, Drusilla whirls and delicately places the vibrating organ into the bowl behind her.  
  
As she raises her arms, bright luminescence erupts from the bowl, beaming upward and piercing the high ceilings. The others and I use the moment of awe to stake several other minions without mercy. The satisfying sound of dust bursts in my ears, and my arm aches from my now human effort.  
  
My eyes find Spike's as he dons the ring and nods once, mouthing how much he loves me. Rhonda is close on his heels as they rush to Aydin's side. An invisible being slashes and destroys the minions that surround Rhonda and Aydin as Rhonda weeps over her fallen grandchild, touching her face and hair as if she can somehow bring her back to life.  
  
Like a child enraptured by a toy, Drusilla is quivering with excitement, mesmerized by the glowing arc of light that is spreading by the second despite the obliteration of her minions' mantra. A spark of light reflects off her hand, and I recognize Spike's ring glinting on one of her fingers.  
  
Our time is rapidly disappearing due to human weakness, and I note the presence of Jenn and Aimée fighting side by side. Making one last decision, I push past the minions in my path, thankful for my small size and years of experience. Two thoughts dominate my mind: destroy the ritual and get the ring.  
  
Once on the platform, I rush at the ancient vampire, using the force of my leap to knock her to the ground in a tumble. My leg lashes out to catch the edge of the podium holding the ritual bowl, and the stone crashes to the ground with a loud thud. Drusilla smells of lilies and blood, and she growls as she shoves me back.  
  
My body flying through the air and across the room, I land on my side, having no time to twist to a better falling position. Like a predator, she is upon me in seconds, baring her teeth and pinning my arms and legs down. I struggle in vain beneath her, making certain not to look too closely into her eyes to avoid be mesmerized by her eyes.  
  
Her canines graze the edge of my neck, and I shiver, waiting for her to drain my life away. I recall the last time a vampire drained me, and I wish desperately for Spike's arms around me one more time.  
  
"You're too late, nasty little slayer. The portal's opening, and there's nothing you can do about it," she whispers in my ear.  
  
She's right. Over my shoulder, a gateway to Earth's dimension is slowly opening. The minions are drawn to the sight like a moth to a flame. My eyes widen, but I'm helpless to do anything.  
  
Just as I brace myself for the end, something thumps onto the back of Drusilla, sending her forward into me with a loud squeal.  
  
A second hit, and Drusilla is knocked unconscious beside me.  
  
A familiar voice sends thrills over my spine. "Looked like you could use a hand, love." An invisible hand grasps mine and helps me to my feet.  
  
"Great timing," I say with irony, neatly staking the minion that's sneaking up behind me.  
  
"You're very welcome. Now let's get out of here." He notes my look. "Forget my ring. We'll replace it."  
  
My eyes quickly scan the room as Spike speaks. We're badly outnumbered, but Rhonda, Jenn, and Aimée are conveniently nearby. "Right. Ready for the spell?" There's no way we can reach Earth's gates, but we can pay a visit to my invisible friends.  
  
"Yeah." Reappearing before my eyes, Spike takes my ring off and slips the smooth metal over my knuckle. "Let's do it."  
  
With no trouble, we reach Jenn, Rhonda, and Aimée because the minions are flocking to Earth in droves. My gut wrenches when I acknowledge that there's nothing we can do about what's happening. . . not as four human beings and one vampire.  
  
Forming an interconnecting ring with the others, Spike and I start the spell we'd memorized off our computers. Something begins tingling deep within me, rising from my toes, up my waist, and into my torso. Spike's azure eyes slam into mine, and we are inextricably one being as the spell takes hold of all of us.  
  
As the wave of magic washes over my upper body and into my head, my eyes blur as if someone is licking my brain and making my thoughts flicker. Just as I'm about to lose consciousness from the effort, something jolts next to me, and I hear Spike's words transform to a groan of agony.  
  
The last words I hear before we slip into the next dimension are, "Bad boy. Shouldn't hurt Mommy so. Now you're dead where you belong."  
  
TBC. . .  
  
Hope this was enough action for ya! I promise more interesting twists await!!! :o) Like, what happened to Spike? And what will become of Earth?  
  
Next up chapter four of "Three Wishes!"  
  
Thanks for the beautiful reviews!!! *hugs* You are wonderful!! ;o)  
  
Take care,  
  
Sandy  
  
Eternal Devotion: http://www.secretloft.com/ed/ 


	11. Part 11

Year 163, Meonik time, hours later  
  
At the edge of the forest enshrouded in night, Jenn is pacing back and forth nervously as I approach her. When she discerns my arrival, she studies me with both trepidation and relief in her eyes.  
  
Skin tingling and nerves on edge at what I'm about to ask, I swallow my fears and murmur, "Hey."  
  
Her cheek healing nicely, Jenn's eyes widen at my casual demeanor, and she shoves her hands in her pockets as if unsure how to react. "How is he?"  
  
How is he? I'm not sure. He might never recover from what Drusilla did to him. . . pulling out his intestines, half-blinding him. I'm so scared. What will I do without him. . . my constant companion, my unwavering source of support? Even in Drusilla's prison, I knew that he was there. . . alive. . . now. . .  
  
Despite the lack of breeze, I shiver and rub my arms without thinking. "They've put him in a tank similar to the one I found him in. They're trying to use his soul's essence to reconstruct the damage."  
  
Thankfully, I don't have to explain much; I had fifteen years to share my life with Jenn, Aimée, Aydin, and Rhonda. Even now, my stomach lurches with the cold realization of Aydin's death.  
  
Jenn rushes to conclusions, "So, he'll be okay?"  
  
"Thayne isn't sure if he will be able to reconstruct everything exactly." At this moment, I'm dead tired from the fight and our dimensional shift, and I haven't taken the time to fathom what he meant. Plus, I have more pressing matters with which to deal.  
  
"How long did he say it would take for his recovery?"  
  
I shrug, half out of irritation with the situation and half out of disappointment in myself for letting Spike get hurt and Aydin die. "I don't know," I snap.  
  
Jenn stiffens at my tone but then makes a conscious shift and relaxes. She places her arm around me in understanding and answers her own question, "Spike'll be okay. We'll be okay." She changes the subject, "Aimée and Rhonda made it safely back to Earth. Theos and Thalia were really helpful."  
  
"I'm glad Rhonda has Aimée. She'll need the support to deal with the loss."  
  
Removing her arm from my shoulders and sitting on the ground next to me, Jenn nods. "I can't believe that even though we only spent fifteen years in that cage, one hundred and sixty years passed here, and two hundred sixty-six passed on Earth."  
  
After living over a thousand years, the passage of time seems less drastic to me, but I acknowledge Jenn's perspective, "Yeah. When we return, the world will likely be pretty different."  
  
Brow creasing in worry, Jenn sighs, picks up a loose stick, and begins tracing designs in the dirt. "Everyone we know will probably be dead. That's kind of a scary proposition."  
  
I imitate her movements, using my finger to form little hills in the sediment. "Trust me. You'll get used to it."  
  
We're silent for a while, lost in our own thoughts.  
  
Then, I gather the courage to ask her what I've wanted to ask her since I found out the extent of Spike's injuries. I maintain a steady, even tone. "There's a reason I asked you to stay behind, Jenn."  
  
She doesn't seem as surprised as I expect. "I know. Are you going to tell me now?"  
  
"Well, the dimensional separation of evil and good has almost completely broken down, allowing even more demons onto Earth than were present when I was the slayer. We're gonna have to fight, Spike and I. In order to do that. . ."  
  
The weight of what I'm asking dawns on the young vampire beside me, and Jenn jumps to her feet, not even bothering to dust off her hands. "No! I'm not doing that! I-I won't!"  
  
More deliberately, I rise to face her. "Jenn, it's the only way we can help."  
  
Jenn's glare is fierce as her fists ball at her sides. "No! You won't help, then! There have been enough deaths! We can handle things ourselves! You don't know what you're asking me to do! It'll never work anyway. . . not the way you want!" Before I can protest, she storms off into the forest.  
  
I let her go. There will be time to convince her later. First, I have to be with Spike.  
  
* * *  
  
Year 163, Meonik time, two months later  
  
He mutters something incomprehensible and shifts his weight to one side, his right hand finding a place beneath his head. The light snoring diminishes but doesn't completely dissipate when he changes position. His left hand feels the bed sheet in front of him as if he's half-searching for something. . . or someone. His forehead wrinkles when his senses deny him the satisfaction of finding their goal.  
  
I marvel at the smooth, whole plane of the muscles in his abdomen, which are seemingly unblemished, unscarred by Drusilla's last minute gutting. Unable to resist, I run my fingertips over his muscles, relishing the warm heat rising from his flesh and smiling at the evidence of his instinctual arousal.  
  
Good morning, sleepyhead. You've been asleep an awfully long time, you know? I missed you, but I haven't left your side, just as I know you'd never leave me. I was really worried about you. . . for a while there. They just took you out of the tank yesterday. Now, if only you'd open your eyes, so I can tell if. . .  
  
"See anything you like, pet?"  
  
My eyes meet two perfect, shining blue ones. Scarlet flames tinge my cheeks as I realize he's caught me staring. "How long have you been awake?"  
  
He grins at me, eyes sparkling. "What? You think you touching me won't wake me up after all this time? You should know better."  
  
"Look who's feeling healthy." I raise both eyebrows at him.  
  
"Much. Thanks for asking." He runs a hand over his belly and his previously damaged eye. "And intact, it appears. Without residual soreness. And ready for action."  
  
A matching flash of teeth fills my own face, and I leap on him from where I'm kneeling. Pinning him beneath me, I taunt, "Are you ticklish?"  
  
"Now, hey, that's not what I meant by action," he mock-protests.  
  
"Too bad," I taunt, bringing my fingers over his stomach and eliciting pure laughter that's like music to my ears.  
  
Once he reaches the out-of-breath point, I pause, giving him just enough time to flip me over, roll on top of me, and kiss me tenderly. I nuzzle my nose against his and smile against his lips. His eyes are wide with the wildness of fresh life.  
  
"I love you, Buffy," he states clearly as if he wants everyone to hear his declaration.  
  
Brandishing my weapons again, I tease, "That's nice, Spike. Glad to know that," before tickling his ribs thoroughly and slipping out from under him.  
  
"Bloody hell, wench!"  
  
Bounding from the bed, I giggle and race across the room with Spike in hot pursuit. He catches me before I can dart into the bathroom, and he slams me against the wall, careful to cushion me from being hurt.  
  
"Looks like the ghosties have let us stay in your quarters," he whispers, dangerously close to kissing me. Goosebumps dance over my arms, and my breaths come short and deep.  
  
"Yep. You've been in the tank for a couple of months. I guess they thought they'd give you a reprieve." I twist my wrists in his gentle grip.  
  
"And let you play with me?"  
  
I rub my thigh against him so that he groans. "Yeah. They said you might be good for me."  
  
"Hmmm. Wonder why." He blows puffs of air against my closed eyelids. "You never replied, Miss Summers."  
  
"Replied to what?" I ask innocently.  
  
He pouts, a look I've seen countless times previously. "You know very well what." He pulls me close so that I feel his heart pounding in time with mine.  
  
"Oh, that." I inhale his scent as if I might drown in the smell of his life. "Hmmm. Maybe I love you, too."  
  
Letting go of my arms, he pulls his hips flush with mine. "Maybe?"  
  
He's definitely not in any pain. "I *was* worried about you."  
  
Nipping my neck and sending shudders of desire over me, he demands, "Just a little?"  
  
I cup his face in both my hands so that our hungry eyes are directly aligned. "*A lot* worried. And yes, Spike, you are loved. I love you. Always will."  
  
* * *  
  
Year 163, Meonik time, two hours later  
  
"I can't do it, and I *won't*!" Jenn insists from where she's wading in the water of the stream on what's become her usual midnight stroll. "No matter how many times you ask me."  
  
Spike is with me this time and comprehends the gravity of our situation. We're preparing to return to Earth, and decisions need to be made here, in this dimension. "Buffy and I agree on this one, pet. You are the only one who can do what we need. We only trust you to do it."  
  
"And what? Allow you guys to lose your souls? Add two powerful and evil vamps to what the world's already got? Do you think I'm crazy?" Jenn splashes water at us with her foot. "No."  
  
"We've talked with Thayne. He thinks he, Theos, and Thalia have a way to ensure that we keep our souls on the turning," I explain, trying to fight the annoyance I'm feeling at being completely drenched. . . one of the hazards of being short in a water fight.  
  
"Yeah, he *thinks*. That's the key word here," Jenn asserts, staring at me. "Why *do* you trust them so much anyway? I don't get it."  
  
I have no response to the trust part. . . I simply do. "They know what they're doing. They're doing blood and DNA scans on us right now to determine our level of health."  
  
"And if something goes wrong? What then?"  
  
Spike nears her, touching her shoulder. "You stake us, pure and simple. We'll be strapped down, and you'll know if it doesn't take. Vampires can sense souls."  
  
"I know." Tears fill her eyes, and she bows her head. "I-I just don't think handing out immortality should be taken lightly."  
  
I take Spike's hand as I stand next to him. "Trust me, Jenn. We believe this is the only way we can restore proper balance after what Prenwick. . .what we did. We feel responsible, and what we do. . . what we've always done is help. We can only fight the good fight if we have our strength and our immortality."  
  
Spike squeezes my hand when we exchange glances. "And our souls, love."  
  
"And our souls," I add. "Thinking time is over. We need to do this soon."  
  
Jenn's reluctance still shines on her face, but she caves, "All right. When do we do this?"  
  
Impulsively, I hug Jenn. "Tonight. Everything's set up in the lab."  
  
"Not tonight," Thalia's voice melts out of the trees, and I belatedly detect her signature sugary smell. "You have to wait."  
  
I turn toward her voice, letting Spike's hand loose. "Why do we have to wait?"  
  
"Well, you actually might be waiting a while."  
  
"How long's a while, pet?" Spike wonders, crossing his arms but moving aside so Jenn can peer between the two of us. . . not that she can see anything but the forest.  
  
Thalia chuckles, and I can't tell if her mirth is based in joy or irony. "See, there's a little something wrong with Buffy's blood."  
  
My eyes become saucers, and a thousand thoughts race through my mind. . . me coming back from heaven with "wrong" DNA, me having leukemia, me being a slayer turned vampire. I feel a bit faint at the thought of something else going wrong. Unconsciously, I link arms with Spike.  
  
Spike finds his voice first, "Um, what did you find wrong exactly? Is it going to interfere with the change?"  
  
"Well, um, you, or rather Buffy, can't exactly be vamped until after the baby's born."  
  
TBC. . . Whoa! After all these years of wanting a child, Buffy and Spike become human, and oops, there's now a baby on the way! Just when they need to save the world again! What will Buffy and Spike do? Will they remain human, be revamped, stay in the other dimension? Stay tuned. . . more surprises await! ;o) Hope you're not too bored, yet!  
  
Thanks for the great reviews! They truly help me keep writing this. . . knowing that you're reading and enjoying!  
  
Next up, part 5 of "Three Wishes!"  
  
Take care, Sandy  
  
http://www.secretloft.com/ed/ 


	12. Part 12

**_Year 163 Meonik time, a few seconds later_**  

            Of all the announcements I expected Thalia to make, I didn't expect to be pregnant.  "What?  How can there possibly be a baby?  You must have made some mistake.  Check the test results again.  I can't be pregnant.  Not now; there's no time!"

            Spike takes hold of my forearms to stop me from pacing in the shallow water.  Instantly, my mind blocks out Jenn and Thalia so that Spike and I are the only ones I notice.  He stares directly into my eyes with a serious expression.  "Pet, it's possible.  We're human now.  And we were *together* in Dru's prison. . . how many times over the last few months we were there?  We didn't exactly have protection."

            I shake my head.  "No.  You were gone. . .out of it. . . in that tank for two months, and we weren't together that many. . . ."

            "Um, I hate to disagree, love, but just one time, and a baby can be conceived."

            I stomp my foot.  "I'm not stupid, Spike.  I know about my body.  I just don't understand how it could happen to us!  After all, we were vampires for a thousand years.  Vampires don't have babies!"

            "Darla did.  Remember?" Spike reminds me gently.  "And we're human."

            "True.  But. . ."  I scrunch my face up, and tears fill my eyes.  "Damn it.  It's just not fair.  My job is to help people, and I can't do it now!  A-and what if the world we're bringing this baby into is too dangerous?  And what if there's something wrong with the baby?  We were vampires, and my DNA's all screwed up.  And what if he or she can't handle that we're vampires?  I mean, is it healthy to have vampire parents?"

            Spike clears his throat to interrupt my babbling.  "Um, Buffy, you're 'what-if-ing,' and you sound just like a flustered Willow.  We can only take each obstacle as it comes."

            I grant him a watery grin at the mention of one of my dearest friends.  "Yeah.  True."  Thoughts whirl through my head, and I open my mouth again, "Maybe I should terminate the pregnancy."

            "What?!" Spike bellows, eyes widening and darkening with fear.  

            Out of the corner of my eye, I witness Jenn slipping away.  They're leaving us alone to sort out the issue.  How nice of them.  

            Calmly, I reply, "It's a logical answer to all our problems.  We can get re-vamped and go back to Earth to fight the war against Dru and the vamps and probably other demons who are now crossing dimensions again."

            Spike doesn't appear to have heard past the first sentence.  "'Logical'?!  How the bloody hell can you say terminating the. . . our baby's life is 'logical'?!  It's the most illogical thing I've ever heard!"

            Trying to get my attention, he grabs my arm then, fingers digging into my muscle.  Water swirls around my feet.  He would never hurt me intentionally.  Something in the blue depths of his eyes. . . fading joy, hope. . . makes me pause.  I've wounded him, and I hadn't meant to.  

            "Why is it illogical?" I whisper, willing his pain away.

            He loosens his grip on me, and his shoulders slump a little.  "Has it ever occurred to you that in all the years we were together when you were longing for a child that I wanted a child, too?  That this baby. . . our baby is not something I would take lightly?"

            Tears course down my cheeks.  "Y-you wanted a child, too?"

            Eyes just as misty, he nods.  "Buffy, I would do anything to have a piece of me and you joined to form a new being. . . to share the joy of new life with you. . . to have someone to leave behind.  And since we became human, since we were trapped by Dru . . ."

            With his last words, the truth wrenches in my gut, and I cut him off, holding up my hand and allowing bite to enter my tone, "Wait a second.  Are you telling me that you wanted me to get pregnant when we made love in that hellhole?"

            Spike knows me, knows my anger is rising.  "Buffy. . . I had fifteen years alone and suffered countless tortures without you."

            "Oh, poor you.  And you wanted to bring a new life into a vampire prison that we didn't even know if we could escape?!"  I am flabbergasted by his revelation.  

            "We would have eventually escaped.  I know it."

            "You know it, huh?  And what if we hadn't?  What if I had died in childbirth in that environment?  What if Dru got a hold of the baby and used him or her for her rituals?  What if. . ." I trail off.  "And don't tell me I'm 'what-if-ing'!  These things very well could have happened!"

            Spike changes gears, "I won't allow you to terminate the pregnancy."  He is firm, unmoving, and Spike has rarely been like that with me in our relationship.  He gives a lot, but this time, he's not altering his position.  

            "It's *my* body!" I proclaim, crossing my arms and resisting the urge to hit him. . . hit him hard.  I can't recall the last time I felt that way.

            "And it's my baby, too!"

            Slogging out of the water, I shake the water off my feet, splattering droplets over the bank.  I feel defiled, dirty.  "Fine!  I'll just be your little pawn!  You used me, Spike, and I don't like to be used!"

            Spike remains in the creek.  Sarcasm drips from his next words, "Well, aren't you the pot calling the kettle black!"

            "That was hundreds of years ago."  I turn and fix a defiant glare at him.  "Shut the hell up!  And stay away from me!"

            With that, I leave him behind to mull over our argument.  

* * *

**_Year 163, Meonik time, hours later_**  

            A breeze sweeps lightly over my bare arms.  My chin is cupped between my knees as I balance at the top of my favorite tree.  I can't count on both hands the number of times I've fallen asleep with the gentle rocking motion of the branches.  My hands clasp my ankles, and my stomach presses firmly against my thighs.   The bark of the tree is rough but firm beneath the pads of my feet, and green leaves tickle my skin.  I feel safe here. . . away from the harsh truth of what Spike has done. . . what I have done.

            A baby is growing inside me.  A new life has sprung from the deepest love I've ever known in my life.  Why do these things happen to me at the most inopportune times?  My instinctual thoughts say that babies should be celebrated, not cause rifts between people.  Realistically, I know that never happens.  Some of the biggest arguments among couples rise from decisions about when to have and how to raise children.  

            A sweet pine scent fills my nose.  "Penny for your thoughts?" comes the breathless voice that is distinctly Theos.  

            I smile wryly.  "You can have them for free."  I sigh.  "Spike and I had a fight."

            "About the baby?"

            "Yeah."  I close my eyes and surround myself in darkness.

            Theos is sympathetic, and his characteristic smell envelops me like a protective blanket.  "What about the baby?"

            I bluntly state my perception of the situation, "Spike intentionally got me pregnant in prison because he wanted a child."

            "Intentionally?"

            "Yes.  He told me as much at the creek just now."  

            "Did you consent to the relations?"  Theos is going to attempt to be logical with me.  Probably smart given the emotions rippling just underneath my calm demeanor.

            "Well, yes," I admit.

            "And what kind of situation were you in?"

            I try to be very honest.  "Very isolated, lonely conditions.  It was prison.  We never knew what was going to happen next."

            "And?  How long were you and Spike separated?"  Theos is good at Socratic questioning.

            "Fifteen years.  Oh, god, it was so lonely."  My heart sinks as I remember the awful separation from him. . . the hollowness.

            "So, when you saw him again, what was that like?"

            A rush of emotions flows over my heart.  "Relief that he was still alive. . . that Dru hadn't turned him. . . that he was still whole even if he was hurt.  I felt like I hadn't seen him or touched him in ages.  I guess. . . I guess it was like we were being reunited.  Our actions were instinctual, needed, comforting."

            Theos shifts his questioning slightly at my admission.  "Did you ever tell Spike how much you wanted a child?"

            I re-open my eyes to view the artificial sunlight rising through the trees.  "Once in particular, but many other times, too.  We adopted a child once."

            I haven't told Theos this story, so he is curious.  "Oh, really?"

            "Ayledan.  She was one of the slayers who came from nothing. . . had no family.  We destroyed a vampire faction together.  Then, we adopted her."

            "But to have one of your own. . . what does that mean?"

            As my anger and resentment toward Spike melts away, tears blur my vision.  "It. . . it means. . ."  I have no words for what the experience of having a child of my own means.  I am a slayer; I never expected to live past age twenty, never expected to be a vampire, never expected to have a long-term mate, never expected to be simply human again, and certainly never expected to have a child.  

            "It means everything."  Spike's voice carries up from the ground.  Pain laces his voice and mars his accent.  

            My heart thumps in my ears, and before I can form a coherent plan, I'm climbing down the tree with the nimbleness of a monkey.  In a minute or two, I am in his arms, but my actions don't mollify him.  He stiffens at my gesture and pulls away.

            He swallows hard as though forcing down his emotions, and I feel the distance between us like a bottomless canyon that I can't cross.  A lump forms in my throat as I bite back more tears.

            His voice is low and gruff.  "Thalia wants to talk with us in their quarters."

            Straightening my shoulders and not showing the hurt I'm feeling, I march ahead of him, ahead of Theos.  Even in Dru's prison, I never felt more alone.  I feel like the slayer again.

* * *

**_Year 163, Meonik time, seventeen minutes later_**

            "We've figured out a solution to your predicament," Thalia announces after everyone is present.  When no one reacts to her declaration, she presses on, "It's an action we can take that will be in the middle of two extremes."

            Still the most skeptical member of our group, Jenn squirms in her seat.  "So, can you be anymore vague, or is that all you can tell us?"

            "Well, what we can set up is a place for the baby to grow and thrive.  Kind of like the tank we used to heal Spike and bring you back to life the first time."

            "You mean, like an artificial embryonic sac?" Spike asks from across the room.  He's purposefully seated himself as far from me as he can possibly get.

            "Yes," Thalia acknowledges.  "Buffy's about three and a half months along now."  Everyone suddenly turns to stare at me like I'm a specimen under a microscope.  "And I can perform a procedure to safely separate her and the child so that the child can grow and develop in the artificial environment in a healthy manner."

            Not removing her eyes from me, Jenn takes the plan a step further, "Then, I guess it'd be my job to turn them after that.  So, it'd be short of terminating the pregnancy but not exactly allowing Buffy to carry the baby to term.  They can return to Earth to fight."

            "Exactly," Theos asserts.  

            Thayne clears his throat.  "So, Spike, Buffy, what do you think of what we've recommended?  I mean, it seems like we've made a pretty big decision for you, but in reality, it's ultimately your choice about how to proceed."

            For the first time since the forest, Spike's eyes find mine.  For the first time in hundreds of years, I can't read what is written in his unflinching gaze.  Self-consciously, my hand goes to my still-flat stomach, and quite abruptly, I comprehend how protective I instinctively feel of the life within me.  I've been stifling the part of me that admits how much I long to carry the baby inside of me for nine months.

            When I do speak, my words come out clear and sharp as if we're discussing something that's not tied to any emotions for me.  "If we agree to this plan and go back to Earth, how will we find him or her again?  Dru has Spike's ring.  How and when will we get to see our child?"

            "Good question."  Spike is taking my side, but I can tell from his tone that things are far from right between us.

            "We will deliver him to you when he is born," Thalia assures us.  

            "Him?"  A thrill shoots through me.  I'm carrying a son!  My immediate thought is that perhaps he will look like Spike.  An involuntary smile spreads over my face. . . one that I notice matches Spike's.  When he notices mine, he immediately dons his impenetrable mask once again.

            "Yes, you're having a boy," Thalia confirms, sending sugary warmth over my senses.

            "So you'll deliver him to us even if we're in the middle of something huge?" Spike wonders, thinking about our previous fifteen years in prison and the impending war.  

            "If anyone can raise him properly in a dangerous environment, it will be you and Buffy.  You've had a lot of practice at surviving and protecting those you love in the worst circumstance," Thayne maintains, his utterances coming from over my shoulder.

            "What if something happens to him in the midst of all the vamps and demons?" I worry.  He's our son.  My hand pushes against my abdomen slightly harder as if I can shelter the tiny being within me.  

            "He'll fare much better than if you carry him for nine months," Theos notes from above.  

            I choose a path.  "Who will do the procedure?"

            "I will," Thalia says confidently.  "Tomorrow morning.  It will be just the four of us."

            "Four of us?" Spike asks, rising from his seat and casually crossing his arms.

            "Yes.  You, me, Buffy, and your son."

* * *

**_Year 163, Meonik time, the next day_**

            Unwilling to leave me alone even if we are angry with each other, Spike sleeps next to me through the night.  He snores with his back to me and as far from me as he can possibly get without falling off the bed.  He also steals the covers, leaving me shivering in the cool early morning air that pours forth from the open window.  

            In a way, I'm glad for the time to lay awake and think about what's happened.  As the first rays of sunlight slip over the horizon and sprinkle across our bed, I realize that I'm tired of thinking.  I swing my legs to the ground and pad quietly to the window.  With my hand on my stomach, I sit on the ledge for an uncountable handful of minutes and watch the artificial sunrise, streaking burgundies, pinks, yellows, and oranges in a brilliant bloody kaleidoscope across the deep navy blue of the night.  

            "Someday, you will see the real dawn."  My voice is hardly a whisper because surely must sound like an echoing boom to the baby within me.  Do babies have hearing at three and a half months? 

            Sighing, I slip from the windowsill, deciding to take a shower before the meeting later this morning.  As I turn,             I catch Spike watching me intently as he lies on his side with his right arm beneath his head, elbow jutting out from the side of his face.

            He blinks when I catch him as if he cannot believe what he is viewing.  As I have so often wondered, I can only speculate about what he sees in me.  Frightened a bit at the intensity of the moment after what happened between us yesterday, I am the first to break our connection by heading into the bathroom as my hand drops from my abdomen. 

            I start the shower, and under the safe shield of sprinkling water, I undress, pull my long hair into a bun on the top of my head, and study my petite body in the mirror.  I turn sideways and try to picture what my stomach might look like, full and distended from the blossom of pregnancy.  

            A shift of cold air rolls over my back as my ears detect the low click of the bathroom door.  I close my eyes as strong arms circle my waist and large hands cover mine, fingertips touching my flat stomach and sending tingles over my bare skin.  Warm breath blows the loose hairs that trail over my shoulders, and a solid chest covers mine.  

            "Open your eyes."  His voice is hoarse with desire.

            As I turn my head to the mirror, he nuzzles his nose into my cheek.  My lids lift to view a slender young woman being held by her lover, steam from the hot shower water framing the figures.

            "What I see," he begins, "is the most beautiful pregnant woman I've ever seen. . . because she's carrying our child."


End file.
